Thoughts of a Well Accessorized Interloper

THOUGHTS OF AN ANTHROPOLOGIED INTERLOPER

I am rifling through my special 'travel' drawer  to extract a bottle of Xanax. Yep. It's time to go to Pleasant Grove, Utah. Every time I cross into that territory, the heaviness in my chest causes me to hyperventilate and my head begins to feel light. Then the sensation of nausea sets in and I feel like I am going to have a heart attack. Panic. And a little xanax placed under my tongue for a few seconds before I follow it up with water to swallow it is the only way to mitigate this sad reaction. 

How ever did I get from a joyful pilgrim to an anxiety-ridden interloper? 

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I really appreciate my mother who never demands much. She is overjoyed whenever we go for a visit and frankly, those visits are so few and far in between.  There is never any criticism about that either. She just takes what is given without reproach for the lacks. Everything is simple. She just wants to love without demands or requirements or expectations. I appreciate that she doesn't talk badly about anyone in our family or my husband's family. Those things just don't even occur to her.

I really appreciate my only sister. She accepts me for what I am even when I aggravate her. And even when we have our moments...sometimes even ugly ones, I can always rely on the fact that in time, she will be her usual jovial, generous self with me and everything bad will just be another insignificant event that somehow doesn't really affect how we love each other. I appreciate how she doesn't harbour any ill-feelings or stew in any venom. I appreciate how she treats all my children as real people even when they were little. She never talks down to them or treats them like appendages who should do as she bids or as babysitting units. She never orders them around. She shows genuine interest in their opinions and thoughts even when they were young. My children feel like she is their equal and so they grew up thinking that she cared for them, valued their opinions and truly loved them. In other words, being an 'aunt' was never a position of superiority of any degree or kind. She was, more importantly, a caring friend who happened to be an aunt.

I appreciate my aunts quirky as they may be because I know that they care about me and because 'family' really means something. It's blood where we come from. Not religion.

Since I did not grow up in the LDS culture, we don't have any pre-conceived notions of what everyone should be. We are just accepted and treated kindly. Or when there is conflict, we pull all the stops and have a good go at it. Then....in time, we revert back to base. There is no back-biting because small as we are, there is just no spare time for that type of empty and classless activity that requires bitterness, misery, envy and a serious lack of intelligence.

I just LOVE it when we arrive at my family's homes and there is a riotous welcome. Everybody comes to the door and expressions of excitement fly all over the place. Then the kitchen becomes the place to be! There is loudness and laughter. And then everybody just chills. There is a relaxed atmosphere. It feels like home. My family is small but it feels so big when we are together.

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Right now, I feel like I am being summoned to fill a part in a paint by numbers portrait. Please pass the xanax.