Not firing on all cylinders

Today feels like a productive day for me. I have a photo assignment to take Christmas parade pictures around lunch time, 12:30, and afterwords Aaron and I are going to cut a tree.

Tonight is also the night of Sonic Potluck, it’s a big concert by the Music Industry & Performance, Recording Arts, and Journalism students. I’m going to be doing all the graphics thown up on the big screen. Just a tad excited. Here’s the link for your viewing pleasure – webcasted live TONIGHT

And of course, I have another photo assignment for tonight too, a ‘stand alone’ photo; one that can do just that, stand alone and tell the viewer what the whole event was about just by looking at it.

Despite all of this activity, my heart is truly not in any of it.

My Aunt Lucy, who has been more of a mother to me than an Aunt in my 24 years of living, had slip and fall accident in recent days and broke a bone in her leg. That, you may think, is well.. not so bad? Think about this:

My Aunt, 60 years old, takes care of my elderly grandparents who are 80+. My grandparents are both ill, bedridden for the time being and cannot do anything for themselves.

Now Aunt Lucy is confined to her bed for 6 weeks or longer while her body heals. Who is going to take care of who? My Aunt Loretta, and whoever gets up the courage to visit is who takes care of everyone.

I can’t wait to get home for Christmas, not for the gifts or the sparkley lights, but to sit by my Aunts side and tell her that she has to take better care of herself, or no one can win.

I can’t wait to get home to sit with my Grandmother and have her recall stories from her childhood, hoping to generate some sense of peace, some form of a smile.

I can’t wait to get home to sit with my Grandfather, and wait for him to traditionally make fun of my weight, because I just don’t care anymore that he’s this way – he’s my pop and he means no harm.

I can’t wait to get home to sit in silence and think about all the things that used to be, think about the empty living room and how lively it once was.

This may sound sad, and it is, but home will always be home, even if it is just memories that wait for me there.

A teen-age Aunt Lucy
Even though she’s smoking, I think she’s beautiful
The unbreakables
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