Being around my blood makes me feel thick

  For someone who has lived a gypsy-style, mostly geographically-distanced-from-my-blood-relatives kind of life, being around my family for Christmas was such a big change for me and unexpectedly

calming.

  I had a hard year, so I was looking for comfort that only those with the same blood as you can offer. My fiancé and I split after a five-year run. It was a surprise ending followed by an unexpected attempt to reunite – then it got messy. Like a level of messy a Spanish-language telenovela could not achieve.  Insert mind-blown emoji. Like I think I will be coughing up volcanic ash for at least another year and six months. Ugly. Feo. Feo.

  After nearly 10 years without Christmas trees, presents, and just a huge deal being made over the of the birth of our dear Lord and Savior, I figured I was due some over-the-top hoop-la and accepted an invitation from my twin third cousin (twice removed) to visit her in Fort Worth for the holiday.

  I had forgotten what it was like to be connected to someone and not have to mentally and physically make one. My cousin is my blood, our grandmothers were sisters. We spent holidays and summers together in Virginia. We are connected as family and as redheads. We favor each other. The shape of our face is similar. We both have red hair. We both possess that hard to describe “thing” redheads have. In her presence I feel loved for just being that thick legged kid in a homemade dress running barefoot through the yard, and not the half-insecure adult that has such shit luck with men and loves to hike.

  From the very moment I arrived we talked like old friends. I was feeling the thinness of my heart start to fatten up. I shared with her my year and the first thing she said was something to the effect of, “yeah, but that Hanchey blood in you is thick and you will be just fine.” And then she came out swinging and put the Jesus wisdom on me with, “God knew you would never pull the trigger on your relationship because you were too busy being in love with him, so he allowed something traumatic and so heartbreaking to happen to ensure that you would never go back.” STOP RIGHT THERE. Accepting that truckload of truth took a minute. A choke. A tear. A sigh. I knew the truth came out of her mouth, landed in my ear and slid slowly down to my heart. Let your family tell you the truth. Let them grab onto your heart and shake it around. Now stand up and walk away from the table, big girl. (The shock of her truth telling still tastes like metal in my mouth right now and it’s been weeks already.)

  At this point in the story my spirit is starting to fatten in the middle. Puffing up.

  My twin cousin hosted a huge family dinner on Christmas Eve, and the food spread was quite literally enough for 100 people and not the 30 that were actually in attendance. Sometime during the evening, I looked around the room as everyone was playing games and laughing loudly and suddenly got flashbacks of being small. In my mind, I could see my grandfather standing at the end of the table with his head bowed (of course my eyes were wiiiiiiide open looking at everyone else) humbly praying and asking the Lord to bless all this food – including my Auntie Betty’s sweet potato casserole with crunchy, brown-sugared pecans on the top – Amen and Amen. It’s the sweet stillness of that memory that got me. I felt like I should be taking a picture of all these people smiling so I would never forget it. And I did.

  On Christmas Day I opened presents that had my name on them. Someone wrapped a gift and put it under the tree just for me. It’s the little things, yall. For Real. I took a picture of that, too. As Christmas fell on a Sunday, we also went to church that day.  I am happy to report the building did not burn down.  All is good. I enjoyed the music and of course if you’re not a real churchy person, the sermon must always appear to have been written just for you. A little conviction? Possibly. That night we loaded up and headed off to a friend’s house for another homemade meal. There I did my usual thing. I sat on the peripheral. I did not participate in the games or in much of the conversation. I just watched the joyous movement around me. I listened to how these people loved each other with their words, but their desire to interact on such a deeply personal level scared me a little.

  I went to sleep a little thicker. Like a puffer fish.

  Now it’s the day after Christmas. My car is all packed and I am standing in the driveway hugging everyone goodbye. I could feel those tears welling up in my eyes but managed to push through all the “I love yous” and the “don’t wait so long to come backs”.  I put my seatbelt on and drove away ugly crying and thick af.

  Closing out this not so thin story, I’m finally on the road and alone with just my thoughts. Even though I was so thoroughly fed physically, spiritually, and emotionally during my visit, a lot of questions kept coming into my head: How did I get so far away? Where did the blood go? Why did my soul feel so thin? My answer: I think because I live so free and love so hard, I can’t always see things like regular, non-redheaded, dreamers can. I think maybe I am just that woman – the one that’s not like all the rest of them.

 Thank you for loving me thin or thick, my blood.

As always, do not follow me for relationship advice, but if you want to see pictures of all my adventures including my Christmas in Fort Worth, find me on social media.