Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Train to Utica

Everything I know about my mother fits in a cardboard box. A small one, at that. When I was visiting Kat, we walked 40 blocks up Columbus avenue, and I told her all the things I know about my mom. A best friend is someone who will listen to the stories you need to tell.

I haven't seen my mother's parents in fifteen years. I honestly don't know if I could pick them out of a crowd. I don't know why it's been so long. I don't know why they haven't wanted to be in my life. I don't think I'll ever be able to explain it. But I'm trying not to be angry anymore.

Last month, I realized that if I ever wanted to see them, I'd better do it soon. They're in their eighties. But I felt angry, and tried to convince myself I didn't need to see them. But I realized I did. I realized that if I didn't go see them, if only to learn about my mother, I would always regret it. If I don't ask the two people who know the most about my mother to tell me about her, it would be a huge loss for me.

So I made a phone call. And I asked if I could come visit for Thanksgiving. They said yes.

So today, in eight hours, I am getting on an Amtrak train to Utica, New York. Wish me luck. Or pray for me. Or whatever it is we do when things need to go well.

*   *   *
Day 20: I am thankful for small acts of kindness, like people picking up the pens I drop.
Day 21: I am thankful for good conversations.

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    1. This is good. Very good. Blessings on your head.

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