Saturday was perhaps the best day I’ve had in a while, in that quiet, inviting everyday life sort of way.
After getting the psych chapter done and finally starting and finishing the resume that haunted me for a week, I headed over the parents’ house for dinner.
With an egg custard pie in hand, my Dad’s favorite, I walked in, grabbed an iced tea while disposing of the pie, plopped on the couch and let all the worries and stress just melt away.
Emotions have been so close to the surface lately that I just needed a time and a space to simply be, with no demands and no expectations. And despite the heavy weight of our past, in the present, my parents have offered a quiet respite from the storm I find myself in.
Of course, they know nothing of this storm. I try to keep it close to the vest, partially out of concern for them, and partially out of an alarming lack of trust that exists between us.
In any case, the chicken was a little dry, but the potatoes and corn were the perfect comfort food, and the conversation around the table, helped along by my brother and his wife, was fast, furious and hilarious.
A trip upstairs to see my brother’s children, the ferrets, was just the thing to make me smile. Ferrets are funny looking little creatures, but they’re cuddly nonetheless and I love nothing more than a good cuddle.
Speaking of brothers and children, Lukas, the newest nephew, looks blessedly like his mother. Maybe my brother will stop being a tremendous jackass, and I’ll see him soon. So not holding my breath. Oh, the joys of a broken and battered family.
The night ended helping a friend pack for his move. I’m not sure how to adequately explain how happy it makes me to be useful. It wasn’t like I was a huge help or anything, but using my hands in productive ways, with good company, is immensely satisfying.
For once, I drifted off to sleep with no worries weighing me down.