Those nerves of mush previously blogged about...yea, about those. So, Chesney and I get into Jacksonville and I'm so excited. Like, seriously. I had to pee it was that bad. So anyway, I grab Chesney's hand and tell her to NOT LET GO. My palms are sweaty with anticipation. We head down the way to meet my family, I catch a glimpse of my gorgeous Aunt Angie and ZOOM! I'm off! Leaving Ches in a trail of my dust.. ( she may have still had her hand in hand holding form, I have no idea) I tackle Aunt Angie. Truly I did. I just buried my face in her shoulder and breathed her in. So there we are in the middle of JAX and we're jumping and laughing and crying and hugging and repeating the whole thing over and again. ( I just couldn't help it!)
Fast forward a bit. My family is abundant in numbers. There are so many to see, to hug and to cry and laugh with. But the biggie, the Grand Pooba, the Main Event is...My Dad.
It's been 22ish years, y'all. On the drive from Jacksonville, Fla. to Murfreesboro, Tn. I'm pretty much just trying to keep my mind on anything BUT seeing my dad. My stomach thanked me later. But when we hit that Tennessee border, it became real. What was I going to say? Would he want to hug me? Who would let go first if he did? Would I cry or be fighting that battle? UGH...I questioned every little thing. I was freaking myself out, getting a knot in my throat, the headache came on like I'd been hit in the head with a baseball bat. I was getting hot and cold, cotton~mouthed and downright nervous as hell. That is until My Uncle Foy (Aunt Angie's Husband) looks right at me and says this..."Girl, you're gonna do just fine. I'm proud of you and I'm right here if you need me." (Did I mention he's NEVER met me until just 2 days prior to this roadtrip and that he's pretty much the ISH?) For some reason, even though my Aunts have told me pretty much the same thing...hearing Uncle Foy speak those words and look me right in the eye calmed me. I don't know if I thanked him for that yet but somehow I think he already knows and if he doesn't, well, I'm gonna have to bust him in the mouth. (Ask me how to join the Club of Mouth Busters)
For some reason I don't want to spill my guts about my Dad and how it all went down. I'll keep it in my heart and hold on to it. But I will share this...
I don't remember who let go of that hug first, doesn't matter. He still smelled like I remember. He told me he loved me. And I got to play a little bit of barefoot Basketball... with my Dad.
Wonderings..random thoughts...and touches of life as I not so gracefully indulge in it.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Nerves of mush...
I'm a tough lil chica. Stop laughing. Seriously. Ok, maybe not ALL the time. See, the things is this...I'm a mess. Shhh. Don't tell anyone. I'm a mess because I'm feeling the most vulnerable I have in like, oh, forever. I'm not going to get into all the reasons why I think most days I'm pretty put together and have my wits about me. All I need to get off my chest right now is this, I'm scared. Scared that this wonderful reunion will somehow leave me feeling hmmm, what's a good way to put this? Maybe feeling something along the lines of coulda, shoulda, woulda. Makes no sense at all right? Yea, tell me about it. But see, the thing is this, I have a very large extended family that I'm anxious to see and reconnect with after 20+ years and the grown woman and the lil girl in me are having a battle. The grown woman knows that it's going to be beautiful and safe and loving and I'll have them all the rest of my life. That little girl is scared that it will all just vanish again and I'll be left trying to figure out what I did wrong yet again. Ok..this is sounding like a pity party and if you know me you know how I HATE that so I'll just say this in closing...Nerves of mush, get over it. I'm going to take a "big deep breath" (thank you Aunt Angie) and know that "it is what it is" (thank you Aunt Sherry) and that this is going to be INCREDIBLE and that I am loved and this is only the beginning. I'm in store for some awesome times.
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