Seasons

I've learned this week the importance of family and tradition, or the breaking thereof. For both.

It seems as though with the coming of Oregoners, there comes the rain which they tried so desperately to escape. Or, so says Amy, my dear friend's mum. I must agree, but perhaps he and the others that this strange occurrence touches can see how much our precious droplets are valued. How greatly we enjoy the double rainbows at the stem of the Catalina mountains, and the clouds - hovering - like actors so glad that an encore is cheered on for them. How extensive is our glee when that lighting strikes at the dark, dry hollows of our land and signals - like fireworks - the start of a new season. Albeit, a very, very late season that should have passed months ago.

Perhaps the weather just needed the Oregoner (I'm sorry Sally, I've already forgotten his name) to coerce it. A lifelong friend to show it the way down to the rowdy southwest.

I could see that the McCallum family is one deeply impressed with tradition, and that's something I long for. I can truly appreciate it with them, but for the very opposite that they do; they are long-time companions of tradition, whereas I approach it shyly, like a little schoolgirl. Even if we did not play charades, or eat pie together, and even if I only came to clean up, I still enjoyed myself thoroughly. Sally would be the main reason; her family a far second.

Sally Whittier McCallum, you are beautiful, even if I hardly understand you. I say that not only because I can refute part of the previous statement now (and thank you, again, and again, and again, for sharing with me), but because we are close. It is scary to hold someone's hand when there is always that possibility of them tearing at it. In fear. In hate. In confusion. But it is that touch that I long for. That little, piercing friendship and trust between two intelligent people that keeps me loving you.

(The same could be said about Mitch, but he is in a different - if reflective - realm all together.)

Your family is amazing. A sad contender with you, but I do enjoy our talks on phallic symbols in Alien during dinner. And to be invited to a tradition, even if it were a continually changing tradition in terms of guests, was an honor. I don't know why yet, that I find it so honorable. Perhaps because there is a lack of it on my side. Yes, I think I was hinting at that before. But also, my family is a closed family; it is in our nature to just shut up and be awkward. I love them, but that can be really uncomfortable at times.

Curse my memory. I'll talk about that later.

But the rain was nice. Walking atop your roof to look at the gorgeous scenery and the rain was nice. And nice is a heavy understatement. I hope I didn't make Jessica too feel too awkward; I was getting used to your presences again. Weird to have you around, but I'm finding it easier to be honest with myself. I try to break down at least one wall a day. If not a wall, a brick. Or a crack - but such little achievement is spared mostly for my father, stepmother and brother. They hold a special, fortified place in my heart.

I suppose that by looking at such an open family - and even if I only saw the tip of the iceberg, I doubt that I'm as retarded as the Titanic - it made me consider my own. Not for long; I've spent much time on them, what with the drama of my brother.

---------- Time for you to stop, unless you like to hear the more incoherent side of me. -----------

trust; \ˈtrəst\; noun; Middle English, probably of Scandinavian origin; akin to Old Norse traust trust; akin to Old English trēowe faithful — more at true -13th century.
1 a: assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something b: one in which confidence is placed
2 a: dependence on something future or contingent : hope

I've gone back to being a child to go somewhere I've failed to go to yet...

We'll see what happens tomorrow. 

Crepes with sweet white sauce inside. 

Deja vu. 

The start of a tradition. A familial addition. The act of sedition. Complications and simplifications. Fear. A reduction. A white wine reduction. Frozen yogurt is for public areas; I shouldn't be scared. Just be patient. I won't be scared. I decided a long time ago to have trust. I have been given so much, so much I owe. I don't know if I'm capable of faith - I've never tried - but I can be worthy of trust. I owe that much...

I trust you.

I'm going to grasp your hand and let go of the fear that you'll break my fingers in a flurry. I want that touch. I want that connection, and I know we have it.

I trust you with my small, shallow, trembling heart.

You have given me so much. You may not know the extent, but now that I think of it, I have no reason to fear. You showed me something incredible, and I owe you trust and faith and loyalty for that. I love you. I trust you. I have faith in you. I will always be loyal to you. You have given me so much.