A True Story

Before beginning my new year, I went home.

JimI and I first went back to Evanston. There we met Matthew. We discussed politics and science, carefully parsing the issues of the day. Dad teased Matthew’s very bright and well-behaved children, and they maintained their poise. We only touched on Dad’s cancer briefly. (We remembered without mentioning Luke’s family.) It was good to remember my time in Evanston where I learned to love knowledge.

Next, JimI and I went back to Oakwood. There we met John. We talked about the fun times and the rough times we spent together in Oakwood. John has now divorced, but he sees his courageous and independent children often. I guess my brother has been calling John late at night—something John recognized as a heart felt albeit annoying reaching out. Through all of it, John smiled and laughed. Not ironic or mournful smiles either, but genuine, joy-filled expressions. It was good to remember my time in Oakwood where I learned to have fun in the face of hardship.

Finally JimI and I went back to Indianapolis. There we met the family. My grandmother’s heart problems were on everyone’s mind that night. (We remembered without mentioning Mark’s family.) But, it didn’t prevent the volume from rising in the room as high energy children ran about. It didn’t prevent a tremendous swell of belly laughs and cursing in response to adults harassing each other. By the time we hugged everyone hello and hugged everyone good bye, we spent a quarter of the night doing nothing but hugging. It was good to remember my time in Indianapolis where I learned that I was loved.

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