I was not sad when I hung up on my mom. It was a FaceTime video call that started badly, moved into hostility, then ended with my disconnecting from it. Disconnecting from her. It was about time, even if a long time coming.
Before Thanksgiving, my oldest brother sent an email to me asking for my new address. I ignored it and he didn't contact me again.
For Thanksgiving, I took Patrick to our church so that he could participate in the volunteering of putting on a holiday dinner for 120 people. It went really well. The logistics seemed to fall into place more easily this year than the last. I stayed in the kitchen working the food with other church members. Patrick began at the industrial sink washing dishes with another person; then, when the event officially began, he moved to working as a server for the people seated at the table assigned to him. The time passed very quickly, with the end arriving a bit anti-climactically. The constant movement of people, dishes, and food did not trickle as much as it ended abruptly.
Christmas was full of adventure large and small. For Patrick, it was a big deal. My gift to him was a new suitcase attached to a week-long visit with his maternal family down in Quincy, Illinois. Patrick's had never before visited with his family on his own terms yet on their turf. They came to Chicago for monthly, hours-long visits. His going down there was a major reversal of the routine that I hoped would give everyone involved a dose of perspective. The Monday before Christmas, we woke up very early in order to get onto the south-bound Red Line at 630a. We switched to the Brown Line at Belmont to continue our way towards Union Station. We arrived there an hour before his Amtrak train for Quincy, Illinois would depart and ferry him to where his family lived. He had never before been on a real train (sorry, CTA) and wasn't sure how it all worked. During that hour, I took us to a breakfast restaurant so to give him time to talk. The French Toast was really good and did their job to get him to express some of his excitement while I got to share my concerns.
He boarded the train without incident and met his mom at the local Amtrak station four hours later.
James and I celebrated Christmas Eve at both of our homes. We opened presents at his house. He got me a Pokémon game and a lovely dark orange flannel shirt. I got him tickets to a Loyola men's basketball game and a New Orleans Saints hat. Later that night, we came to my place to eat dinner: a vegetarian lasagna that was more than double the size of the one I made for Thanksgiving. During that holiday dinner, neither James nor Patrick tried the lasagna instead sticking to the traditional dinner that we all made together for the two meat eaters. That night, while walking Ryu near the lakeshore, I left my dad a voicemail message wishing that the fat man ("Santa, obviously...") would be good to him.
That week, while Patrick was visiting his family, James and I moved back and forth between our two homes and taking Ryu for long walks through the parks. The weather was unseasonably warm. On one afternoon, I ran a 10km circle along the Lakeshore Trail -- a distance that I had not run in four years.
Earlier last Summer, my middle brother said that I was a selfish person wanting to have things on my own terms. Now in 2020, I get to think back on the past year generally and the holidays particularly. These were -- in the most personal terms -- the best holidays that I can remember. No one felt stressed nor projected the stress outwards. Affection seemed everywhere. Nobody had to anxiously tip-toed around landmines because there were no landmines.. Everyone felt recognized. This was a season of firsts. My brother's projection back then wasn't surprising; but, even a stopped clock is right twice per day. I have to concede the point now that he was right. I did want things on my own terms.
My responsibilities to Patrick's care made clearly and starkly the necessity of sticking to terms that encourage healthy behavior. In other words, I want to be a good parent. Exposing Patrick to the terms of life that my family adhere to back in suburban Detroit will not happen. Now that I've had a holiday season on my own terms, I'm never going back to theirs.
Today is my mom's birthday. I wish her all the best, but I do not at all wish to speak to her. I do not want to speak with her or to my brothers. But I do wish them all the best.
Before Thanksgiving, my oldest brother sent an email to me asking for my new address. I ignored it and he didn't contact me again.
For Thanksgiving, I took Patrick to our church so that he could participate in the volunteering of putting on a holiday dinner for 120 people. It went really well. The logistics seemed to fall into place more easily this year than the last. I stayed in the kitchen working the food with other church members. Patrick began at the industrial sink washing dishes with another person; then, when the event officially began, he moved to working as a server for the people seated at the table assigned to him. The time passed very quickly, with the end arriving a bit anti-climactically. The constant movement of people, dishes, and food did not trickle as much as it ended abruptly.
Christmas was full of adventure large and small. For Patrick, it was a big deal. My gift to him was a new suitcase attached to a week-long visit with his maternal family down in Quincy, Illinois. Patrick's had never before visited with his family on his own terms yet on their turf. They came to Chicago for monthly, hours-long visits. His going down there was a major reversal of the routine that I hoped would give everyone involved a dose of perspective. The Monday before Christmas, we woke up very early in order to get onto the south-bound Red Line at 630a. We switched to the Brown Line at Belmont to continue our way towards Union Station. We arrived there an hour before his Amtrak train for Quincy, Illinois would depart and ferry him to where his family lived. He had never before been on a real train (sorry, CTA) and wasn't sure how it all worked. During that hour, I took us to a breakfast restaurant so to give him time to talk. The French Toast was really good and did their job to get him to express some of his excitement while I got to share my concerns.
He boarded the train without incident and met his mom at the local Amtrak station four hours later.
James and I celebrated Christmas Eve at both of our homes. We opened presents at his house. He got me a Pokémon game and a lovely dark orange flannel shirt. I got him tickets to a Loyola men's basketball game and a New Orleans Saints hat. Later that night, we came to my place to eat dinner: a vegetarian lasagna that was more than double the size of the one I made for Thanksgiving. During that holiday dinner, neither James nor Patrick tried the lasagna instead sticking to the traditional dinner that we all made together for the two meat eaters. That night, while walking Ryu near the lakeshore, I left my dad a voicemail message wishing that the fat man ("Santa, obviously...") would be good to him.
That week, while Patrick was visiting his family, James and I moved back and forth between our two homes and taking Ryu for long walks through the parks. The weather was unseasonably warm. On one afternoon, I ran a 10km circle along the Lakeshore Trail -- a distance that I had not run in four years.
Earlier last Summer, my middle brother said that I was a selfish person wanting to have things on my own terms. Now in 2020, I get to think back on the past year generally and the holidays particularly. These were -- in the most personal terms -- the best holidays that I can remember. No one felt stressed nor projected the stress outwards. Affection seemed everywhere. Nobody had to anxiously tip-toed around landmines because there were no landmines.. Everyone felt recognized. This was a season of firsts. My brother's projection back then wasn't surprising; but, even a stopped clock is right twice per day. I have to concede the point now that he was right. I did want things on my own terms.
My responsibilities to Patrick's care made clearly and starkly the necessity of sticking to terms that encourage healthy behavior. In other words, I want to be a good parent. Exposing Patrick to the terms of life that my family adhere to back in suburban Detroit will not happen. Now that I've had a holiday season on my own terms, I'm never going back to theirs.
Today is my mom's birthday. I wish her all the best, but I do not at all wish to speak to her. I do not want to speak with her or to my brothers. But I do wish them all the best.
