2002-07-17 - 4:01 p.m.
We sat on the deck until well after dark, gathered around the table with drinks, just talking. It was another scorching day, but it didn't even seem so hot, out away from the city. In odd moments, I was wishing I had watercolors.... vaguely dreaming about the layers of yellows and blues and deep purples I would use to paint the roofs, the sky, the distant woods. Not that I would have really whipped out the paint and started painting then and there, but I always see things in watercolor. In terms of colors blending and dripping and fading, shadows and light.
Skootie and I were visiting my dear friend, J., who was the husband of my sister who died, and my other dear friend, K. who was once married to my brother.... who are now married to each other. It sounds complicated. And it has been complicated in different ways over the years, but they made it work. They are dear friends who will always be family to me.... but for various reasons, most of them just logistical, we haven't always stayed in as close touch as we meant to. So it was a happy occasion to be driving out to visit them in their new home.
They bought a big, comfortable house in an area where city meets country: There are street addresses and neighbors within view, but no traffic and lots of land in between. They have a barn, with a paddock and two green pastures, bordered by enormous cottonwoods. It is a beautiful spot.
We took the house tour, and watched the dogs tussle. We got to meet the sheep, and rubbed their wooly backs and soft noses. We laughed at the cat, climbing up on the fence and almost being knocked off by a curious sheep. We saw the garden, and the flowers and looked for snakes in the wood pile.
My nephew, (J.'s son, age 21) had just arrived home after spending six months in Europe and he entertained us with tales of his travels. He is bright and creative, and this experience seems to have enriched and matured him. He's wonderful company. I thought.... as I often do.... what an amazing person he turned out to be.
I kept thinking as we were sitting on the deck, how much this evening was like many evenings when I was younger, when socializing was still casual and easy. Before everyone had to check all their calendars and pencil you in for two weeks hence. And I like that. Easy is one of the things I miss most.
It felt easy, too, to be with people who have known me for so long. Who will be neither impressed nor put off by anything I might say or do. Who have always reached out to me.
But mostly I kept thinking about all the layers of experience we all represented. How many different lives we had all begun, houses moved into and out of, farewells, disappointments, celebrations.
And also realizing that in someway, direct or oblique, this moment is as it is because of my sister's death. Because these are the lives we made for ourselves, when we were faced with the unthinkable task of moving on without her. And we've done pretty well.
I'd like to believe that experience stripped away some layers of judgement and conceit we may have had. And made us more aware of the fragility of life, the necessity of reaching for all the peace and happiness within our grasp.
We are all pretty happy people, sitting on the deck, sharing stories, laughing out loud. But it is a kind of happiness that was chosen, worked for, defended, made of many transparent layers.
I think of all the colors it would take to paint these smiling faces, shadowed by the soft summer dusk.
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