Thursday, November 24, 2011

Happy American Thanksgiving

As usual, I start this thing with no purpose in mind, just that I want to write something.

Upstairs, my brothers and their wives chat with my brothers' friend. I'm down in my room, in the dark, listening to music and hearing their din. Across the way, the dryer is spinning, zippers against the drum.

A few years ago, Thanksgiving, I flew with my parents up to Oregon to visit with my brother and his (then) girlfriend. We went with her parents out to a beach so people could look for agate. I climbed up on rocks and watched the waves roll in, shatter against the rocks, then slide back out. Someone caught a picture of me out there, looking and I was asked what I was thinking. I thought of nothing, just the ocean. Later that week, I overheard my brother, while he was looking at the photos, say that that picture was exactly how he thought of me.

I still don't know what to think about that.

I'm sort of officially my niece's godfather, without all the god stuff. Not sure if I have to sign anything or just agree to it. I'll probably see her once a year, twice if I'm lucky. There's no way to know for sure, though. I don't know what my role really is other than really hoping that nothing horrible happens to her parents. To be fair, even before this I hoped that nothing horrible would happen to my brother and his wife, so that hasn't changed.

'Night, all.

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