After running around all morning, I saw some potential in coming outside. There’s just enough of a dry wind out of the West to keep the some of the gnats at bay. So I parked myself under a sycamore and listened as the world drives by. The first load of our daughter’s laundry is done. Just got through mailing off my donation to the state and federal governments. And paid the post office their share of the pie to send them off.
The air still smells of the grass that was cut yesterday. Lisa picked a few ripe figs from the bush/tree, and a little later on I’ll check the tomato vines. The sky is cloudless and the air isn’t humid, damn near perfect weather to get your ass outside. My sons are hidden away in their dark, often smelly rooms. Doing God knows what on their computers and phones. I often ask myself, “are these children actually mine”? But then I remind myself I married into a family of vampires.
Finding our roots, finding our comfort isn’t necessarily a tricky thing. I myself am considered the “oddball” of my family. While I do share many family traits, my views on religion, life, and politics greatly vary from my family peers. But within the scheme of things, does any of that really matter? I mean we all share a bond, a bloodline we certainly cannot deny. I suppose the point is, we all have our shared experiences. We all share human traits beyond the pigment of our skin. Isn’t time to turn off the noise and appreciate who we are… family.