The day is filled with contrasts. There are black clouds in the sky, and the wind blows gusts of cold around the edges of my clothes. Richard and I dug deep into his dresser drawers and came up with a Ferrari T-shirt for him and a Motocross shirt for me so we would be in theme with the party. I considered buying UCLA and USC jerseys, but decided we didn't want to draw battle lines.
We are at Christian's "all-star" birthday party to help him celebrate turning two. It's cold enough that no-one is interested in swimming, so the dogs have been shut inside the pool gates. We are free to roam the yard, to smell the roses, and to put our feet on the grass.
Our extended family is gathered togeher, and our side is out-weighed by the Hispanic side by what seems to be fifty to one. I'm never sure just how we are all related, or even where I fit on the family tree. I got here by marriage. It's interesting to think in terms of our side and their side when I'm the only one from my bloodline. In reality, I'm the outsider.
I have chosen a chair at the edge of the patio where I can sit and feel the sun on my back when it peaks through the clouds. In those moments I am in heaven. I'm outside, with my unexpressed words swirling and playing in my head. The wind is caressing my face. I'm wrapped in the sun's warmth. And, I'm sitting alone. I can survey all the activities, watch the interactions, and keep my thoughts and my words to myself. I would have made a great hermit.
Number 34, in the black jersey, has just arrived. He is one of the cousins. He spots Jackie, Christian's four year old sister, climbing into the playhouse with her friend. He calls something to her, but I don't understand what he said. I think he mumbled his words.
But Jackie has no problem understanding what he said. She turns from her friend, puts her hands on her hips, does an admirable job of stamping her foot in her Cinderella slippers, and says, "I don't wear pampers, you do!"
I feel the cold tongue of the wind as it seeks to invade the spaces between my skin and my clothes. My eyes take in the scene and nothing appears to have changed. The collectible cars sit by themselves on the dirt, wearing their covers like we are wearing our jerseys. The decorated paper table cloth is held down by the plastic covering with the edges taped to the bottom of the table. The tag that says "made in China" is still on the back of the new high backed patio chairs that found places among the old plastic ones. The two coolers, one for soft drinks or water and the other for beer, are open and people are helping themselves. The open wine bottle sits on the table next to what seems like a crane that is being used as an opener. A few isolated cans perch on their napkins and complement the colors of the table clothes. The birthday presents are stacked on the cold barbeque, isolated but visible.
A group of cousins in crimson and gold are standing at the other side of the patio. The dogs are poking their noses through the pool gate, sniffing the change in atmosphere. Groups of people, standing in twos and threes, or those sitting at the tables, continue the soft buzz of conversation as if nothing is happening. My calm, peaceful thoughts are frozen like icicles driping from the eves. The warm sun has released its grip on my shoulders and is hiding behind the black clouds. I am astonished.
Right in front of my own eyes I have seen an example of tribal consciousness. Number 34 is training Jackie how to be one of the tribe. He is training her to stand up for herself and to trade insult for insult. He is teaching her the skills of survival.
I watch, waiting to see what will happen next.
Number 34 smiles at Jackie with love and says, "No, I don't wear pampers, and you're the pamper girl."
Jackie is learning well. She gives him a final glare, swishes her skirt like a Flamenco dancer, and turns to go back to playing with her friend.
Comments