I've been thinking the past few days that I really miss Miranda's family.
Spending time with Miranda's mom is like listening to a memoir firsthand, and feeling as though somewhere within all of this uncertain mess that I am at age 23 there might be a story that matters. Her desire to know and understand where things and people come from is so very much like me that it feels like the home and family I was meant to find. This, in combination with her extraordinary generosity, warmth and attentiveness has me a bit smitten with this idea of close-knit family that has somehow eluded me until now.
Miranda's father and stepmother are a bit more guarded, but are oozing with wonderful intellectual and socially just ideas. They are spiritual and value just about everything, especially nature and living things. They cook and eat deliciously well, and strive to make their home like a bed and breakfast for us to come visit for the occasional weekend. They have a way of making moments, conversations, and meals meaningful and warm that reminds me of what I used to dream of and try for when I was a sentimental middle schooler (meaning before I figured out that such things were off-limits in my family).
People say that all families have their problems-- as though they mean that it all comes out even in the end. I surely recognize the imperfections of Miranda's family, and they are certainly not trivial things, but the opportunity to join this family could be positively life-changing for me in a very fundamental way. I am like a little girl on a playground jumping up and down. Pick me! Pick me!
11:26 - Tuesday, Jan. 23, 2007
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a poetry reading - Friday, Nov. 30, 2007
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