Easter dinner on my side of the family was held at 5:30 at my aunt and uncles. Wow. Am I the only one who is completely bored by that sentence? I feel the need to throw some pirates or riots in there to beef it up.
Here we go: A wild-eyed family member shrieked through Easter dinner. The shrieks were intermittent, sneaking up on us like a stealth bomber, leaving behind casualties (something fell, not sure what it was) and frayed nerves that zinged into an occasional shudder or tic.
Dinner started with a bathroom sit-in. I believe in a Hulk type frenzy the hero of the story made himself a safety fort (aka lair) by pulling a drawer out and blocking the path to the toilet. The bathroom door was open so we all could get the full effects and vibes exuded into the main area where some of us were seated waiting to enjoy our meal. I made the mistake of making eye contact. The father of said rebel stated, "you now have two angry eye shaped holes in your soul."
This is what can happen when sugar is involved. Public Service Announcement: sugar highs have an opposite and I think we should just call those "sugar uglies."
In between the sugar stand-offs the adults were able to have lovely conversation. (In case any family members are reading and feeling bad about their children's behavior, I'm exaggerating for my own amusement. A few holes in my soul are totally worth a good story...don't tell the others about the exaggeration thing, K?)
Before dinner we enjoyed a few minutes of lovely weather while the children gathered those evil plastic eggs filled with fuel for epic meltdowns. A table was ready for half the group on the patio since it was supposed to be nice. We had gotten forecasts for rain in the afternoon but they moved it to 7:00 p.m. Just as people got seated the sky started looking a little stormy. In the distance there was a little lightning action in the sky. The adult consensus was that the storm was a ways away. My cousin/nephew (father of above mentioned rebel) looked at me. "So, Kelly, do you think it's safe to sit out here with the lightning?"
"Me? You're asking me?" I said. After all, I'm the mid-generation in the group. Two grandmothers and an aunt who dabbled in decades of safe living and plenty of warning spouting were right there. Two grandpas, too. I don't have little kids or grandkids. And...this nephew/cousin is a man-child (my son's age) who at one point thought I kept heads in my freezer. But that's another story.
"He said. Yes. I think you can make this call... and you have a blog."
So I told him the lightning was very far in the distance. That I thought it'd be safe. Five minutes later the wind picked up and sent them all into the house. Then it rained.
I reminded them all that he'd specifically asked about the lightning and that lightning had not hit the patio. And that I'd probably be blogging the story. I can't help but think that soul hole-puncher kid was a consequence to the whole weather forecasting debacle. Shudder.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.