Family Matters
I feel in some way, I am finding myself seeking “home,” and by that I mean the extensions of myself. The people, experiences, places, lessons, and messages that make up myself. As Venus and soon Jupiter trek through my fourth house, this theme is on brand and amplified as I return to a place I was once with my mother as a young girl. It feels as though I am trying to fill in the gaps, the blank spaces between memory and song where something; I can’t quite put my finger on, is supposed to be. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the nostalgia of re-membering.
Currently, I am at my aunt’s house who is good at filling the house with stories, and although I have heard them many times before, the repetition is useful; so I listen as if it is my first time memorizing. At this moment, I am thankful for the [few] relationships my mom has built, of which I can return to. I do not take for granted the making of a home.
A part of my inner home is how I make myself useful in any environment. My mother instilled in me the desire to go full out or not at all because “why waste energy to half ass something?” Also, “one does not get to complain if they are not willing to provide and exercise solutions.” I'm grateful that both these in any place have held true and allowed me to leave things better than I encountered them. As I am here to [re]build my lineage in a way that serves all of us healthily, I explore what mantras I can leave my daughter that she can whip out at a moment’s notice. I am grateful for the truth both my mother gave me and I give my daughter unabashedly. I was taught the truth is love.
What makes a house a home? This is what drives me to explore every nook and cranny of life, leaving no stone unturned to find the makings of love, essentially; and what is lended to me in that experience? While it may seem to be a beautiful experience, sometimes what I find hidden in the crevices are things I am not sure I am ready to unpack. Namely the matters of my father.
I cannot ignore the other half of me as much as I would like to and have been. To be frank, I am at a place in my life where I am seeking to mend my relationship with the Black man as a whole and what better place to start than the first Black man whose relationship; or lack thereof, I found fracture in. But does it really matter, as I inch closer and closer to that “wound.” I’ve gone this long without him and surely I can go longer. As I come to believe I am in a place in my life where I need not waste time in relationships that don’t enthusiastically nurture me, I am tempted to just throw my hands up and say it doesn’t. Besides, why should I have to mend a relationship I didn’t break? Yea, that’s where I’m leaving it for now.
It’s complicated, these family matters, and/or all the parts that make up our whole. How we have been given a lifetime to explore, write, rewrite, omit, and engage with the parts of all of us. May you find courage to explore the footprints which we all walk within.