My aunt and uncle let us come visit them for Thanksgiving. They live pretty far away, so we split the drive into two days. During the drive, Atticus needed regular reassurance that we were still on course.
My aunt and uncle have lived in their house for the entire time that I've known them. For some reason it took me until now to realize how special this is. It's rare to have a place in one's life where you've gone, off and on since childhood, and have always been met with love and acceptance for where you're at in your own development as a human being.
During the fall of 1997 I briefly lived with them when I was about 20 years old. They let me come work for their company, which satisfied the work requirement of the college I was attending at that time, and gave me some valuable work experience at a young age.
I don't remember feeling very strong at that point in my life. I was afraid of a lot of things and felt generally unequipped to handle the world.
They were very kind to give me a place in their home and a space to work in. I remember riding into work with my aunt most mornings. We parked in the bottom of the building and took the stairs (or sometimes the elevator) up to the office. It was my first office job.
It was a strange time. I was attending a college and entering adulthood, but I didn't feel like I was doing either one the way it should be done. I mostly had the feeling that the whole plan I'd created for my life's success was failing because I wasn't as great as I thought I was. And it sucked. I didn't have any skills built up to make my way through that time gracefully.
In a show of support for my intelligence, my uncle tried to give me advice about the world and money.
Entering their house this November for Thanksgiving, I had no idea that I would remember that specific time from earlier in my life. But a lot of those memories came back. It says something about the magic of their home that I can return 21 years later and remember that earlier time with some humor and forgiveness. It also speaks to the remarkable nature of my aunt and uncle and how they've welcomed me and loved me each time I've been there.
This was a potentially difficult trip to make with my little family of three. It was a lot of driving, and two hotel stays, and a new environment for Atticus. I didn't know how all of that would be, but I knew how I'd feel stepping into my aunt and uncle's door. The feel of the door handle in my hand, and the steps up to the door. I knew how the inside stairs would feel under my feet, and the rugs, and how the cabinet doors would sound opening and closing. I knew how the different parts of the house would make my head feel a different way as I passed through each of them, the upstairs bathroom (with the skylight) always a little warmer and moister than the rest of the house, the skylight making it feel like you could stick your head up over the roof and look out over the city.
And I knew how it would feel to hug my aunt Jake again.
I also know if I'm just now appreciating all of this in a more deep way than before, that it may mean it's not going to last for the rest of my life. Which makes it doubly worth writing about.
