Old Roles (Not to be confused with ‘Old Dogs’)
First of all, isn’t my Mork doll cool? It was my brother’s a long time ago and I’ve had it in my bedroom ever since I can remember. My plan is to have it in my fancy office one day but until then it stays on my book shelf here in Rome.
Today is Monday and I’ve now been home for…. five days! Thats a lot of days when you think about it. Think of all the things you’ve done in the course of five days before. Relationships, temp jobs, how long was Baby Jessica in that well? More than five days I think? Or was it? I don’t know…. I’m not the only one with Google. I can’t do everything for you guys. Eventually you boys are gonna have to live on your own and wash your own clothes and make your own beds. Are you even listening to me? Hank?
The five days have flown by but I’m continuing to make an attempt to really see these people that make up my family and be present to them and my experience here. It’s uber hard and uber frustrating. Cole pointed something out to me a while back when he was here in Rome with me and thats that when I’m with my family we immediately retreat to our old ‘roles’….. my sister goes back to getting annoyed with us for the same things she always has, my mom does too much and leads me to feeling frustrated and smothered, my Dad stays quiet, and I continue to get frustrated with him for doing it. We go back to the Mom, Dad, Older Sister, Younger Brother scenarios we’ve maintained under this roof for years and years. I stop holding back my impulsively short tempered self…. I let it out in a way I am incapable of doing in front of no one else…. I get annoyed and argumentative at a drop of a hat, one second I’m laughing the next I’m storming off to my room. Besides this relating back to my usual obvious very manic behavior, it more so than anything plays into the existence of these ‘roles’ and just how easily I slip back into mine. While my parents roll their eyes and giggle at me in most instances, I find myself feeling exceptionally guilty every time I correct my mom, or criticize something my Dad says, or pick an argument with my sister just the hell of it…. they’re little tiny fragments of moments but I hear myself and realize just how childish and silly I can sound around these people…. but thats what the twelve year smart ass little brother does and despite my best attempts…. THAT is the role I find myself slipping into the minute we hit the Rome, Georgia city line.
It’s strange, sometimes difficult, but on some level…. comforting….. that those roles can survive despite the never ending change and growing up…. the chipping paint on the garage, the tree that got cut down in our front yard, the squeak the Honda CVR I drove in high school has started making…. that these ‘roles’ are still in place no matter what and without trying in any way whatsoever, I can be, for better or worse and often times embarrassingly warts and all, my fourteen year old self rolling my eyes at my Mom and saying “GAAAAAH! Mommy, thats not how the world works!”…. is a sorta neat reminder that no matter how much things change, some things never do.