I can't really say that I "went home" for Thanksgiving because my dad's house has never really been my home. Especially since he got remarried. But it IS my dad's house, so that is sort of like going home, right?
A lot of people don't know that I have this other part of my family that is really wonderful, like my three sisters, my quirky grandmother, and my colorful array of cousins. The few that do know about my family on my dad's side know a little about the really uncomfortable situations, some of the drama, and a lot of my personal feelings and hesitations about the whole mess. To make it all really short, my step mom and I didn't really hit it off, and I quit staying there when I was about 15. (Quit envisioning screaming matches and one of us storming out though, it was more of a fade into the background as quickly as possible sort of transition.) Since then I have been back to that town on average of every 3 years. I spent a lot of time growing up being angry at my dad for not trying to make things better, and trying to hate or love my step mother. But the older I get, the less I do that. It's really nice. Yes, they have their down falls, but so do I. Oh lord, do I. About a year or so ago, I realized that I have forgiven them. It was such a relief to let it all go. And it completely changes the way I approach time with them now.
It's an odd sort of detached feeling that I was processing for most of the visit. I was a stranger among my own family. We have so successfully alienated each other, whether intentionally or not, that I don't really know them, they don't really know me. It is almost like participating in a foreign exchange homestay, with the added awkwardness and pretenses that come with being among family you don't know, but feel like you really should. I realized that a lot of my assupmptions or experiences with them may not be true anymore and it makes me wonder how they view me and my lifestyle. Honestly, I don't think I care too terribly much because I am at a point where I am happy and don't feel the need to justify much of my life to anyone. (Not that I wouldn't explain if asked in the right context...)
As I observed the little every day rituals they partake in, I realized how incredibly curious it all makes me. I wouldn't say jealous or envious, but curious. What is it like to be a teenage girl in a home where your dad comes to your room to say goodnight every evening, where family game night really happens, where your friends are welcome and frequent guests at the dinner table, and where everyone gathers to say a blessing before dinner? What is it like to come of age in a town where your basketball coach is also the sheriff and a member of your ward in church? A town where you can walk almost anywhere from your house? To grow up in a house with two parents there? I can't even fathom some of these things. I can see ups and downs in all of them, just as I can in the way I was raised, but it amazes me. It's all so....traditional, in a warm, peaceful sort of way. What is it like when there aren't people visiting? Is it still so happy and smooth going? Does it all still make sense or is it more of a burden or mask?
I left knowing these things 1) My dad is such a caring and sentimental person it makes me cry to think about. 2) My sisters are all so beautiful it's heartbreaking and smart that it's intimidating, but all in their own unique way. 3) My step mom works harder than anyone I know. She never stops. 4) The grandmother that never seems to age and always feels familiar has definitely aged, and didn't seem to know me at all. (One sign that things in that small town do change.) 5) I want to be a bigger part of it.
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