Since moving several states away, the family I miss the most
are my brother Danny and Wayne’s siblings Joanna and Philip. Yep, those younger
pesky siblings are the ones I wish lived closer to us and we could do the
things we used to do together.
Like the many times Philip and Joanna would show up at our
apartment in Rapid City in the middle of the night during a snowstorm. We would
see them coming outside the window – Philip jumping over the fence in a tee shirt and maybe
climbing up our balcony to enter through our deck. Joanna would be trailing
along pulling an extra large suitcase, backpack, groceries from mom Douglas,
and several 24 packs of Diet Coke. Somewhere along the walk, she would drop
something, lose a flipflop, and her suitcase wheels would malfunction, causing
her to be jolted to a stop and start dragging the luggage. Wayne or myself
would run out and help gather things and bring them in. At that point we would
break out the Diet Coke, Cheetos and board games. Eventually I would go try to
sleep, and hope that no one called the cops for all the noise that was created.
At some point during the weekend I would attempt to cook a
nutritious meal for everyone. If they didn’t immediately vacate the premises in
search of the nearest Burger King, they would politely nibble the food and say
kind things like, “it’s good….I’m just waiting for the taste.”
Sometimes Danny would be there too, or some other friends
might come. Everyone was always very kind and considerate, and our motto was we weren’t having enough fun unless someone was crying.
In our three room apartment you could forget about privacy,
personal space or sensitive feelings. You usually had to wait to use the one
bathroom. How long you waited depended on who was using it, if they knew you
were waiting for it, and if they held a grudge against you.
Then there was the summer Philip lived with us. Our
schedules were complete opposites: Wayne and I would work during the day, come
home, and Philip would leave to work at his job at Little Ceasars. He might
return before midnight and get on his computer, sometimes going to bed when we
got up. He was required to wear black pants to his job, and one day, and having
not washed them for several weeks, he decided that maybe they needed ironed. I
got the iron for him and he did an interesting job ironing his pants.
Then there was the summer that Danny lived with us. One of
the first nights, Danny was out late and I didn’t know where he was. I was
worried sick, wondering what kind of friends and or substances he had found. I
didn’t know what to do if he was doing something illegal. He finally came home
and things seemed ok, so I decided I wouldn’t be his mother and ask him where
he’d been. A few days later, I found out from someone else that he was just
having a fun evening with some good friends of ours.
I miss all of those days and nights of disc golf, skiing,
chatting, camping, and boating. I even miss soda spilled on the carpet,
suitcases emptied on the living room floor, and
Now we are anxiously awaiting a trip with our three younger siblings. It will be a 'last hurray' of sorts, with changes ahead us all as some of us approach middle age (What?!) and others of us have finally started acting like adults. I still want to nurture them and give them lots of advice: Be sure to pack this. Watch out for pick-pocketers. Don't miss your flight....etc. Overall I really hope everyone stays safe and has fun. Isn't that what all mother's want?
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