This Reminds Me

Rachel and I made a quick trip to Indianapolis over the long weekend to see family.  I had enough American miles for two tickets, so I picked Rachel to go because she and my cousin Joyce’s daughter Jennifer have a virtual relationship through myspace.  (Lois and Hannah were not – ummm – supportive of this selection.  Big sigh.)

Jennifer and second cousin Rachel circa 1992

And last weekend.

The cold snap caused flight delays all over, including for Rachel and me.  The kids aren’t complaining, though.  Sleet cancelled school today – and tomorrow. They “ice skated” on our deck in their socks.

Many thanks to friends who sent my Aunt Mary recycled Christmas cards.  She’s starting the collages next week!

I joined my cousins in removing property from the home of my recently deceased and childless Aunt Zum (Arizona) and Uncle Russ.  The experience was unsettling.  I am not accustomed to rummaging through other people’s drawers and cabinets, thinking, “Do I want this?   Can I get it back to San Antonio?”  Also, it seemed so sad, that instead of a gaggle of cousins jumping in leaf piles and scheming to avoid her ham loaf, we were fingering her crystal and itemizing our wish lists.

Aunt Zum collected decorative swans, so, I took a small one for each of our four girls.  And then I got to thinking.  Rachel, Lois and Hannah were with Aunt Zum a few times.  They know she was Grandma’s sister.  They know she always remembered their birthdays with a crisp $10 bill.   They know my mom nicknamed her “Zum” (“Zoom”) as a child because she couldn’t say “Arizona,” and Aunt Zum could run so fast. They made cards for her, and heard me talking to her on the phone.

So how to explain an Aunt Zum – and a host of other deceased relatives, like my own mother – to Julia?

Aunt Zum will always be my Aunt Zum.  But I don’t think she will ever be Great Aunt Zum to Julia, who never met her, and for whom she will be represented by a little glass swan and an afghan in the den.  I think Aunt Zum will be “my mom’s aunt” to Julia.

I think part of me recognized this earlier.  When Julia has seen pictures of my mom, I have said, “That’s my mother.”  I’ve never said, “That’s your grandmother.”  Keith’s mother – whom she knows – is her grandmother.

So what does this mean?

I think it means biology can’t be erased.  That’s neither good nor bad, it just “is.”  .

I think it means an adopted child- particularly an older adopted child – needs to be firmly implanted in today, because his or her biological yesterday can be very murky.

I think it means the biggest impacts in life are made by people we know.  Blood is important and ever-present, but flesh is what you propel into a leaf pile, or cover with an afghan, or cuddle against as the sleet whips around.  Flesh sits in your lap and learns to read.  Flesh kisses you good morning and tells you no, it couldn’t possibly be bedtime just yet.

And flesh – well, flesh is what you remember when you’re packing four little glass swans in a Rubbermaid container.

I am thankful for flesh, and for blood, for Indy, for San Antonio and for all the hugs in between.  Without those – well, it’d be even colder inside than outside.

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