My mother always said, "It won't always be like this."
It was as if she was saying it to her self more than me. I remember watching her stare out the window, repeating that phrase. Maybe her mother said it to her as a child. If you have read some of my other blog posts, this will make sense.
After 2 weeks alone at my Grandfather's, everyone would come. My parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles. It was like Christmas for me.
We have all read memes about the joys of cousins. For a lot of us, our cousins were our best friends. For me, this was especially true.
All day we would swim in the pool, ride mopeds, play on the beach, dive through the waves at the ocean. After our parents put us to bed, we would laugh until midnight while the adults played Rummy until 3 am. I remember their loud conversations about religion and the Bible. The noise was comforting for me after (what seemed like) weeks of being there alone, in silence.
As an adult, I take comfort in those I have become friends with. Their love and laughter is a reminder of those joyous childhood memories and of bonds with cousins that will last a life time.
Road trips. Days on the range. Margarita nights. Yoga and wine we had on Sunday's this past summer. Each and every event brought me great joy and a sense of togetherness I had only felt during summer gatherings as a kid.
My Father had left at the end of my 5th grade year. That's when things really went downhill. My mother had gotten more involved in her cult religion. No more summers with cousins. I wasn't allowed to see any of my friends from school. It was just me, my little brother, and her. And, still, my Grandfather.
My mother seemed to relieve her sadness by torturing me. It seemed as if she had taken great joy in telling me I could no longer see my friends. The moment I turned 18, I left home. I had saved up some money working at the horse farm but spent it quickly on food and motel fees. I began a pattern of moving out and then back in with my mother. Moving in with people who would take me. Living with abusive boyfriends. I was a mess!
I met my husband when he was 12. Him and my brother were good friends growing up. He told me, "One day, you will be my wife."
I remember laughing because... well, he was 12! What did he know?
He must have known something! We started dating years later and...here we are, married in 2006 and still going strong. I take great joy in our love for one another. He amazes me every day. Don't get me wrong, he annoys the hell out of me some days too, buuuutttt.... he makes me feel whole in a way no one ever could.
No matter what we were going through, he was there. He was there to witness my mother's crazy. He was there when I lost my son.... a son he adopted and lost too. He was the one holding up the ceiling as the walls were burning. He even cleaned up the mess once the flames went out. He really is my hero, as corny as that sounds.
The one thing this has all taught me is.... we can't do it alone. I know, when times get tough, many of us want to hide away from the world. You can't. You can't segregate yourself from all that is light and expect to fight your way out of the dark. We need friends to guide us, love to heal us, and joy to bring us back to where we want to be.
I will never forget all of the moments of joy I have felt throughout the years. They kept me holding onto the hope that... "It won't always be like this."