Saturday, October 15, 2011


My father died when I was a young boy and an unsettling secret came to the surface.  I was adopted. Their eyes shifted from the side of the elevator as they told me. It was on his deathbed that he demanded that I know. Maybe he always wanted me to know. My mother would have never told me, but maybe he could see the coming storm and how the rest of my family would treat me after he died.

So why does any of this matter at 28? Surely, with great humor, I have settled the score with myself that my family affairs are a bit crazy. They are a bit less than what I want in my life. However, at 28, I also feel the sting of not belonging to any family. I have been too wrapped up in my own work to make any relationship prosper. Therefore, I have no family of my own. As far as the aforementioned family, people I grew up with as sisters "friend" me on Facebook only to claim me as their cousin. My "sister" does not even respond to a request to have dinner while I am in the same city as her for nearly three weeks. This was the very sister who saved me from so much heartache after my father first passed. She introduced me to the mountains, to the only thing that held my mind open to the world and its possibilities. Now, she is but a stranger to me. Other sisters treat me as a stranger all together. I have seen one sister in a grocery store where her eyes shifted and she acted as if I was a stranger. I feel I was never really a part of this family. I was but a stranger popping in to say hello.

Other than this family, I have a biological one. Mostly, I have two sisters and a brother. My brother and I talk from time to time. His work carries him all over the world. He lives in exotic places and always has an exciting story, or three, to share. We get along, but we have never spent that much time together in person. We have always been so far away from each other. My oldest sister and I are not so close at all. We are closer in distance, but not so very close when it comes to talking about things. She has a busy life and two young ones who mean the world to her. The other sister is but 15 and estranged from me by distance and a very different style of life.

Most mornings I don't even think about any of this. I could care less.

But when I do, I realize how alone I am. 

Adventure leads me back to some connection with the world. I wish I had some big adventure to take my mind from all this. Yet, here in Illinois, I have none. The mountains are not here, and most of my truer friends have left in search of their own mountains. I wake up feeling despondent on mornings like this. So I bury myself in a book about water and go on.

"Life for you has been less than kind
So take a number,  stand in line
We've all been sorry, we've all been hurt
But how we survive,  is what makes us who we are" - Rise Against

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Ambitiously enduring.