Family of Friends
I learnt two things yesterday - your feet can hurt after eight hours of walking even if you're wearing flats, and age is irrelevant in the presence of a passionate shopper.
Yesterday I went shopping with my mother for the first time. At the end of the eight hours, I was down on one knee with my imaginary hat over my heart and my head lowered in reverance of her superhuman endurance. Even my younger sister was forced to admit defeat after six hours, collapsing on a massive IKEA sofa in exhaustion.
But I wouldn't have passed up on the excursion for anything in the world. Even if it meant not being able to sleep past 9am on a public holiday! It was yet another chance to strengthen my bond with these two people. Two people who, not too long ago, were like strangers to me. We resided under the same roof loving each other in a obligatory way but not understanding each other in the simplest of ways. Perhaps we were destined to be that way, I thought. Perhaps not all families were mirror images of Enid Blyton's creations.
But time and age have an intolerance for sameness and predictability. They also have a fondness for orchestrating upheavals in one's life at the least expected moment. Four years ago, I ended a four-year relationship, moved out of his house, rekindled an old friendship, made a lifelong friend, learnt to drive and most of all, learnt to live. All in a span of one month.
Unknown to me at that point, the third chapter of my life had just begun and this time the characters included my family. So we all tentatively reached out to one another, each in nervous anricipation of what we might discover. But we must have liked what we saw for the bond that sprung up then has lasted until today and shows no signs of abating.
It's a special feeling to be friends with your family. Because although being family isn't a choice, being friends is and when something is made based on choice it can last a lifetime.
Yesterday I went shopping with my mother for the first time. At the end of the eight hours, I was down on one knee with my imaginary hat over my heart and my head lowered in reverance of her superhuman endurance. Even my younger sister was forced to admit defeat after six hours, collapsing on a massive IKEA sofa in exhaustion.
But I wouldn't have passed up on the excursion for anything in the world. Even if it meant not being able to sleep past 9am on a public holiday! It was yet another chance to strengthen my bond with these two people. Two people who, not too long ago, were like strangers to me. We resided under the same roof loving each other in a obligatory way but not understanding each other in the simplest of ways. Perhaps we were destined to be that way, I thought. Perhaps not all families were mirror images of Enid Blyton's creations.
But time and age have an intolerance for sameness and predictability. They also have a fondness for orchestrating upheavals in one's life at the least expected moment. Four years ago, I ended a four-year relationship, moved out of his house, rekindled an old friendship, made a lifelong friend, learnt to drive and most of all, learnt to live. All in a span of one month.
Unknown to me at that point, the third chapter of my life had just begun and this time the characters included my family. So we all tentatively reached out to one another, each in nervous anricipation of what we might discover. But we must have liked what we saw for the bond that sprung up then has lasted until today and shows no signs of abating.
It's a special feeling to be friends with your family. Because although being family isn't a choice, being friends is and when something is made based on choice it can last a lifetime.
posted by starlight at 3:53 PM
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