Face

Herself is still processing the recent trip.  It was a family reunion, full of all the wonderful and difficult moments associated with collecting a disparate assortment of individuals linked solely by the fragile and yet enduring bond of DNA. It was good, and it was tricky, and it was full of memories that were vaguely embarrassing, slightly wistful, and occasionally surprisingly sweet.

Herself finds these gatherings to be draining.  She must put on her sociable face and spend far more time than to which she's accustomed making small talk with people whom she has not seen for quite some time (ranging from a few years to a few decades, in this case).  She tried hard to do and to say all the right things.  Did she do enough?

She put on a brave face when asked about her employment and talked about her recent unmooring, providing a positive spin on what has actually been a difficult time for her.  She kept an eye on the Offspring to ensure that they were not cornered by any particular relatives for too long.  She tried to soothe the ruffled feathers of those who were disappointed to discover they were not the center of attention at the dinner table. She tried to interact with the nephews and nieces in a quiet and peaceful way so that they were not overwhelmed by another unfamiliar face. She listened to the elderly widower reminisce about his lovely wife, and noted how he still referred to "we" when talking about the home in which he now lives alone.

They all needed a moment to say what was in their heads and their hearts; the best she can do, always, is listen fully and attentively.

When things were strained, she mollified and pacified and cajoled.  She tried to ask thoughtful questions and tend to the needs of others.  Even when she realized that she was exhausted and needed to go recuperate alone in a quiet space, she could not retreat for long; social rules required her participation. She drew strength from her Offspring, who were charming and conversational, and she found joy in seeing how kind and thoughtful they have become. The Offspring are Good People.  They warm her heart.

Herself looked at the newly-found pictures of her beautiful aunt who has been gone for over thirty years (how can it be so long?), and remembered the shy admiration she always felt in her aunt's presence.  She realized that she never knew -- until she saw the photograph -- that her paternal grandmother played the violin.  Such a remarkable woman, grandmother was; never did an unkind word leave her grandmother's lips.

Even though the pictures were black-and-white, Herself could readily bring to mind the bright clear blue of her grandfather's eyes. Shaina maideleh, he would call Herself as he briefly cradled her chin, and in that moment, Herself's unkempt braids and crooked teeth and spattering of freckles did not matter, because she knew he found her pretty, even when she did not understand his words.

All the tiny details, still so crystal clear after all this time.

She realized how much her own Offspring look like the grainy old pictures of their ancestors.  Do they feel a kinship with their kin?

Herself is now back in the safety of her own house, and yet the busy pace of daily life continues.  She has had precious few moments to digest and absorb the whirlwind of the trip. She is in need of a long walk, some quiet contemplation, and a bit of time with her Safe People.  Only then can she put on her Self Face, and let go.

Underneath my outside face
There's a face that none can see.
A little less smiley,
A little less sure,
But a whole lot more like me.
~ Shel Silverstein