Today began the first day of my third and hopefully final round of chemotherapy. it also was the first time my aunt pookie got to see the digs I've been lurking in since august.
aunt pookie (Priscilla) is my dad's younger sister. before she left LA after getting married, she was one of our babysitters when my brother, sister and I were young.
family visits -- or maybe just visits -- are all the same. they tend to revolve around the kitchen table, where everyone sits telling stories about my generation or theirs -- how my cousin Alicia beat the crap out of me once, how dad chased my uncle johnny when they were kids and caused johnny to vomit and stories about family members before us. the same with Guadalupe, Adrian and even when Matt, fatty and Sarah arrived. stories from another time, be it last year or seventy years ago. but it's wonderful and at least with some of them, clarifies the errors that have been repeated for years or even decades.
it helps. Sunny and Reed, two great young journalists who have established themselves internationally will be coming though this weekend (the photo above is us and a few other characters, notably beloved Luis Gomez and Noah Friedman, part of our rag tag crew of journalists in Bolivia in 2003) as will bean (my sister Tina).
In the past visits were accompanied by cases of beer, bottles of scotch and tequila, and a crazy desire to talk until the sun's rays came through the kitchen window. not this time. but someday again.
so I'm hoping for any easy week of chemo., so i can listen to the stories, though I have to be honest, it's getting harder and harder.
1 comment:
that kitchen table of yours. it's a good table. it's interesting that people congregate around it versus say...the couch. the couch is arguably more comfy and has more seating room when coupled with that big chair and the living room allows for more people when you bring in the kitchen chairs...yet it's true. Your kitchen table is where it's at. I wonder what that is? It's got to be something more than the amazing light, dancing on my tounge tamales or the smooth, harmonious calavacitas that your familia makes, que no?
Post a Comment