Three kidney transplants. A decade of Dialysis. One ailing soul.
This is my respite, my haven, my intellective cove. This is where all the damaged bits scatter in hopes of becoming whole.
I'll rave, I'll rant, I'll offend & hopefully, I'll inspire.
Disclaimer: not for the easily offended, politically correct, close minded, or rabid haters. I've had enough of the previous for one lifetime.
Thank you and Godspeed.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
The Power of Baby Sisters
My baby sister's name is Amy, named ceremoniously after our grandmother on my mother's side Amelia.
The one that had thirteen children, my mother being the final number in that Jon & Kate Plus Eight brood.
I call my sister Amos, just because.
Over the years, our relationship as siblings has been uneven. Somewhere after I began college and Amy graduating from high school, we really lost touch.
I'm as much to blame as she is. But that's not really important.
What's important is the here and now, and that is what I speak of today.
Over the past weekend, with no personal persuasion involved, my sister visited Sonoma County for the weekend.
The English language is not descriptive enough to behold the anticipation I had for my sister's arrival. It was as though Christmas and my birthday had mated and given birth to a new level of anticipation.
Many years ago I adopted Santa Rosa and the backwoods of Sonoma County as my new hometown. This leads to the ultimate joy of being able to share one's love for the county over and over and over again.
I'm ashamed to admit I'd never been to the Charles M. Schulz museum. We went.
Had to show off my favorite hour hiking trail at Howarth Park. Done.
We explored downtown Santa Rosa and Healdsburg. Went antique store shopping. Wolfed down meals at Omelette Express, Flavor and Gary Chu's.
But best of all was just sitting in the presence of my sister and having great conversations. About nothing in particular.
And I loved it.
For three days all the frustration, sadness and depression that migrates through my head daily, evaporated completely.
A fact I didn't realize until after she had departed.
Her plane sped away on Monday evening. I was still feeling pretty good until Wednesday evening.
Then Melancholy stepped in. And He won't get out from under my bed.
If you perchance had met my sister, you'd immediately like her. Everyone does.
She's naturally sweet. Given to flights of silliness and whimsy. Able to speak about anything. Very intelligent.
Quite generous. She tried to pay for everything.
Generosity knows her quite well. In 1995 when my first kidney transplant was failing and I was headed toward the dreaded transplant list, she offered up hers without hesitation.
I like to believe that while it is housed within my frame, my system was able to filter my life through her kidney and somehow grab the best her soul had to offer.