The Missing Brother

They gathered from around the globe this year, at the old home place.  Families getting together, all in one place.  this hadn't happened in a while, she recalled.  All but one was there.  He had gone from them a few years back, only long enough to still be missed in a terrible heart wrenching way.  They all missed him.  All.  Tears in the eyes kind of missed.  He wasn't her brother, but might as well have been.  Even though he had lived thousands of miles away, he was there.  When he returned, which happened every few years or so, it was if he had never been away. 

On the day they laid him in the ground, they raised their glass in toast. It was in respect of him that they did this.  He would have wanted drinks rather than tears.. he got both.  Not all were there that day, the oldest missing.  But not this day.  She watched, as they all came from their cars, trucks, jeeps and made their way to the family plot.  "Hello father, Hello mother, Hello Brother"..  Greetings came easy.  They stood for a moment, still not believing that this was part of their here and now.  The youngest offered small plastic cups,  mainly to the brothers and sisters who gathered.  and proceeded to pour "a wee dram".    She watched as they raised their cups.. "to our brother", they said.  and the youngest took the bottle, The Brothers favourite drink, and poured a "wee dram" on the grave.  Drink up brother, this is for you..

She Stories: Christmas...

She Stories: Christmas...: "The tree is in the middle of the main room of the house. It's been up since early December, decorated in it's finery, but looking a li..."

Christmas...

The tree is in the middle of the main room of the house.  It's been up since early December, decorated in it's finery, but looking a little out of place in this tropical climate.  Maybe next year a large branch from one of her mile trees will be in it's place considering the cost.  She will get some of the "Pine Scented" spray to make the house smell better.  Presents are under the tree and she is very happy with herself, having wrapped all the gifts, including those that Santa will bring.  Usually she waits until about midnight on Christmas Eve, after all the stops etc, to wrap the gifts for her children.  But not this year.. too much to do, too many people coming around.

She is happy for the silence even though her young son is watching Television and can't seem to get herself up to do anything.. would rather just sit and do nothing.

Why doesn't it feel like Christmas?!?!  She really isn't sure. Others have also commented about it, but she guesses that maybe this time tomorrow, when the gifts have been opened and the last minute prep for lunch begins and the gathering of at least 30 people at the home place happens, the Christmas Feeling will be around.

She takes another sip of her coffee that her husband poured her at least an hour or more ago. It's gone cold but she really doesn't mind it.  It's the thought of having to get up and move around and get those last minute things to be done, done..    Onward, forward.. and Happy Christmas!!

She Stories: Silence

She Stories: Silence: "She sits in silence, the family is off for the afternoon. Thoughts don't even come into her head. She is not sure in which direction she s..."

Silence

She sits in silence, the family is off for the afternoon.  Thoughts don't even come into her head.  She is not sure in which direction she should turn.  Her brain is too tired.  Oh the silence.  except the low reverberating noise from the sound system in the village behind the next door neighbors.  She could do without this and the TV being on, but it's still silence.  No yelling or demanding. No one prodding her to "get busy", "do something", "don't just sit there".  She just sits with her thoughts, or lack of......

The Club

The second Tuesday of the month.  That's the day they remember or try to anyway.  It's the day of their monthly meeting.  They come for 9:30 to sit and sip tea or coffee and have a small bite to eat.  They chat and catch up.  "my granddaughter has decided to come and live with me" one of the ladies said.  another had just returned from a trip "back home".  Back home is actually where many of them have come to in their waning years.  They moved from this place when they were young.  They lived their lives, been married, had children, buried mothers and fathers and some their husbands and children.  And for reasons they each had made separately, they returned "back home" to the land of their birth.

They use the club as a gathering spot, each having their own lives to live during the rest of the month.  But that second Tuesday brought them back together.  It makes them feel "alive" and "needed".  Keeps them busy and helps them feel useful in their older age.    It's not about the building they are in, it's about the friendships they have formed, about the one bond they all have, having lived abroad from the land they come from.

The meeting begins.  She sits in the corner, when ever she can attend, and she watches, listens and takes in all around her.  She is not as old as many of these women, but she enjoy's being their.  Her husband calls some of them "backstabbers".. "Don't do or say, or commit to anything cause they might stab you in the back if you don't do it their way".  But she still goes.  She enjoys being the "young chick" among the older hens.  She enjoys taking direction, but also leading when need be.  She doesn't like that not all participate or even seem to enjoy being their, but she still attends, and still takes part.
QB6FBTSNCHHDOne day, when she is their age, she will be a full fledged member, as they are, in the club.  The one where they sit and enjoy each others company for a couple of hours on the second Tuesday of every month. 

Crescent Stretch of Beach

Cream sand dotted with prickle berries and straw from the nearby Casuarina tree lined the gentle crescent stretch of beach.  She sat and watched her family floating on boogie-boards in the blue green shades of sea as the hot Caribbean sun ripped behind high wispy white cloudss.  She could tell by the tenderness with which her husband had entered the water that it was cold.  Well, as cold as it could be when the air temperature hoovered in the mid 80's during the day.

Her young son kicked away from his father as if something had happened and he wanted to get away.  Most liely an argument over not enough waves to surf but he soon found happiness in the waves on the beach break that could carry him in, if only for a short few yards, to the shore.

She watched again as her husband coaxed her son and older daughter along some in shore waved and then he himself too a ride on a slightly bigger verson. The sea was too calm today to boogie board, but they all tried anyway.

She thought of the middle child, a girl, who was spending the afternoon at her best friends house.  The were born 6 months apart (could have been around the same time if the mother hadn't miscarried early in the pregnancy, but then things may have been different).  This daughter worried her, as she didn't always listen, and many times didn't do as she was told.  But over all was a good girl.

Life, ingeneral, worried her with things she couldn't explain or understand.  She had grown up in a family of 6 children with worldly parents for whom she would be eternally grateful.  If not for them, who knows where she would have ended up.   She fears it would not have been on this lovely crescent shaped stretch of cream colored sand on this beach in the Caribbean.