I had a dream last night. Actually, I dream every night and quite vividly, I might add. But last night included my sister, Dawn. That was rare. I dreamed of a glittery party which included our own President Obama. Weird on many levels. Many of her friends attended. It was an outdoor event at the White House. Then it morphed into her friend's backyard, then I was alone in her backyard in Black Diamond. (she doesn't live in Black Diamond.) then I sit down on her lawn and begin pulling up dandelions under a tree. I'm thinking while I'm pulling, reflecting on her life, particularly, about all the times she surprised me. And I'm realizing how unfair I've been to her. And how I've never told her how proud I am of her. There's a lot to be proud of.
First, like me, she managed to rise above her heredity and life circumstance and get sober. Not a small feat considering our socioeconomic status (poor white trash), history of abuse, and subsequent low self esteem. Oh, and the drinking culture of our home life. We were alcoholics waiting to happen. She also abandoned a tumultuous single life in favor of a more stable married life to a nice man who fits into our family. And she had the guts and fortitude to leave her lying cheating first husband despite the opposition and lack of support of her family (including me). She also did not let her lack of a high school diploma get in the way of earning a living. She may have chose the hard row to hoe, but she's making ends meet with the tough life of trucking with her husband. She has also shown how intelligent she is by teaching herself money management skills, paying off bills early, putting money aside for a rainy day, and, dog gone, if she did not teach herself computer skills! Pretty damned amazing!! No, I never did manage to tell her how proud I am.
About that time, in my dream, she walks through her house to find me, butt on ground, pulling weeds. She shakes her head at me, like "Oh, it's just you" then walks back in the house. I call out to her to tell her my epiphany. Too late. She did not just go back in her house but she walked through out her front door, hopped in her blue PT Cruiser and went down the road and about her business. In my head, it's vitally important that I tell her now, so I hop up into her husband's semi truck and off I go. Real quick I realize that I cannot go down the small streets and alleyways I would normally take and decide to get on and off the freeway. As I go down some hills, I realize I should shift but fail miserably and choose to ride the brakes. I'm hoping like Hell that the brakes don't fail, I'm holding up traffic despite careening around a curve. I'm wondering what's in the trailer and what's the tonnage and if I knew the tonnage, how I avoid a jack knife situation? "Oh my God! What was I thinking?! I'm in way over my head! "
Somehow I get down the freeway, again without shifting, I pull off the exit that ends up being a rest stop and, guess what, they are stopped. I apply the brakes and start slowing up nicely. The end of my ordeal is in sight. I'm gonna call the brother-in-law and tell him what an idiot I've been and come get his damn truck...And the brakes give out, I look in the right mirror as I'm turning into the right through lane. It's not clear but maybe they can avoid me. I have to thread the need in a long-ass semi truck...Not gonna make it...The red VW moves from in front of me, I cut back to the left, hoping against hope I don't wreck this truck...I'm gonna make contact..."Tina, wake up. Are you gonna get up this morning?"
Hell yes, I'm gonna get up. You just saved my bacon! I would say if I able to speak coherently. And you know the part about my sister? It's true. Dream are funny things.
I remember catching fireflies, putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field. That field was my...
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