Friday, August 7, 2009


The Crew

Ever since I have been home it has been all family. They are all that is left for me in Visalia. Megan was in town, and that was great to catch and meet up with her. Now Miles is here and I know it will be great... we have a lot in common... art, music, and we love to stir our family pot ;-). Of course one person I have been able to catch up with that I really appreciate is my brother. We are both stuck in this house for the time being and it is easy to relate to how sucky it is. We were never really close and honestly I don't think that we will ever be the happy hugging type of brother and sister but we are definitely closer in our own ways.
I love this picture of the crew above. It says a lot about our characters. Megan, the pretty one who loves dresses. Raymond, just chilling and is just... there. Milely, I remember our thumb sucking days, doesn't look like he is ready or really wanting to take the picture. And me, what the fuck am I doing? No one ever knows, just screwing around... like usual :-)

I went the other day and visited my other family members... ones past.

I like to walk around the cemetery and look at the old head stones. Usually I change my moms flowers and then put the old flowers on forgotten graves... like the really old ones that no one will ever remember.

Then I came across Aunt Jeanie's grave. She was the first family member, that I remember, who passed away. The only thing I remember of her was her hugs. Other than that... nothing.

Then on my way to my mom's grave I ran into Molly. Molly was a girl I went to school with way back when I went to Pinkham Elementary. When she and I were 8, her and her whole family was killed in a plane crash. Their grave is near mom' s and never has any flowers on it, so I always take some from mom and give it to Molly.

Then, of course my reason for going to the cemetery... Mom.

It never gets easier going out there. The whole atmosphere stirs up old memories of being a little girl and watching all those adults lower my mom into her grave. It still feels too surreal to take. I remember the funeral and everything like yesterday, but remembering my mom is like a memory of Swiss cheese... there are lots of holes. I don't remember a voice really or much of who she was. I do remember cold hands with the smell of lotion. Also, how she always cursed when she stubbed her toe, she loved coupons, her favorite color was blue, and how whenever I would get out of the bath and she was drying me off she would say that I was fresh as a daisy.

Other than that I really cannot remember much.

Well... away with all this seriousness. It was a long day and an even longer night. I'm gonna go paint something :-)