OK- I'm officially Slowing. Way. Down. And I'm at home- in Ventura, spending some much needed time with my father. It's been too long, and I need this. And him.
And he cracks me up. He's not the greatest housekeeper. His philosophy on, for example, cleaning the toilet is "well, we're just going to crap in it anyway, so why bother?" He has the same thoughts on locking his car door. He kind of has a point, although I won't adopt those life mantras.
And here's our conversation following the drive home (and a pit stop at In 'n Out Burger):
Me: I forgot my bathing suit, so need to go to Target.
Dad: OK, keys are on the table.
(about an hour later)
Me: I've got the bathing suit, so now I'm going to go for a drive along the beach. That OK?
Me: I'm not sure when I'll be back.
Dad: OK, see you whenever.
I love that man.
A couple of hours later, I come back with Starbucks in hand, flowers for my dad's makeshift alter for my mom, and we are now sitting down to watch ultra liberal TV. Maybe I'll go out later. And he'll just pass over the keys again.
More importantly, home is a healing space for me. It wasn't always like that. I used to find home oppressive and couldn't wait to leave. And I rarely came home once I left. But then I hadn't found myself yet. And I had no clue who I was. And I was angry at my parents. For being emotionally distant- for drinking too much- for fighting.
And my sisters were pissed at me for leaving. For a long time.
I think they have forgiven me. And I've forgiven my parents. Because I (and they) have found ourselves.
And now I come to this space for rest. And for love. And for healing. And I will spend time with myself, playing my guitar, and swimming, and walking on the beach, and reading, and thinking about my future.
And I will relish in walking with my sister along the shore, and getting pedi's, and eating ice cream at the harbor.
And I will cherish this time with my father- watching liberal TV and pocketing his car keys.
Because I'm home.