500 Miles

aubrie.  

as individuals, they exude compassion, determination and creativity. they nurture relationships carefully and thoroughly. they are kind people. they are stick-by-your-family-even-when-they-drive-you-crazy-because-family-is-everything people. they are intelligent, respectful and quite funny. both of them possess a unique sense of humor. they have their set routines and they have their set habits. they are extremely accomplished. they are storytellers. they are nature enthusiasts. they are humble.

as a couple, they exemplify patience. i have absolutely no idea what it is like to be with someone for 30 years, but i do understand the power of patience and they have it. they understand that love is a living organism. it is not a stagnant feeling. it’s not something that grows to a certain capacity within your heart and then stops. it changes. it takes on different forms. it ebbs and flows. it is found in their kitchen, in their yard, in their car, while grocery shopping, while decorating the house for the holidays, on college visits, in time of pain, in weakness, in strength and when they least expect it. it is not found in presents or in trips or in reckless expenses. it is found in their friendship. while they are so comfortable with one another, they continue to accept whatever changes they face and they welcome growth. 

as parents, they are teachers. they have taught me to be my own person and to take pride in who i am (something that took me 27 years to figure out). they have encouraged everything i have ever pursued in my life and they have respected any decisions i have needed to make for myself. they are listeners. they’re entertainers. they love to make my brother and i laugh. they’re cheerleaders. they’re dancing fools and hugging machines. they are our counselors and our caretakers. they are our happiness. they taught us that life is only worth living if it is pursued at full capacity. 

if nothing else, they taught andrew and i to be relentless. relentless as individuals, relentless in love, relentless in whatever life brings us. they taught us to embrace the easy and the hard, the extraordinary and the mundane, the familiar and the adventure, the good, the bad and the i-don’t-really-know-how-i-feel. 

my mother continues to tell me that i’m an adult and that i am capable of making my own decisions and living my own life and i really don’t need to keep her up-to-date on everything. however, my parents are still teaching me how to exist in this world. i’ve learned some lessons on my own and with the help of friends, but nothing quite compares to the relationship you form with your parents when you begin to look at them as equals and as friends. i’ve learned my greatest lessons from them. and as their anniversary present, i promise to live my next 30 years just as they have together…

relentlessly. 

i’ve heard people tell me that the flooding in vermont is nothing in comparison to all the other natural disasters this world has endured over the years. this is what i have to say to them…

it is everything in comparison.  

it doesn’t matter where you live, where you are from, what happened, and to what level of severity. natural disasters are scary. they happen to real people and real places. they destroy towns, cities, states, countries. they do not understand the concept of home. it doesn’t matter who they hit. a disaster doesn’t register feelings. it doesn’t care. 

truth be told, we have no control over them. and we shouldn’t. what we can do is be prepared. we can listen. 

irene ripped my hometown of bennington, vermont to shreds. we have never seen damage this extreme and bennington is far better off than other towns in vermont, new york state, and other parts of new england. wilmington (just 25 minutes east of bennington) is completely underwater. multiple major highways are destroyed. rivers and streams are at record highs. businesses shut down. people evacuated. entire towns cut off. 

president obama declared the state of vermont a “disaster” late this morning. roughly 75% of the state’s damage will be covered by the federal government (an estimated 2 million dollars in damage throughout bennington alone). 

i have spent the bulk of today catching up on the news. i understand that governor shumlin and senator leahy are in bennington as we speak. it does not surprise me how quickly vermont responded to the storm. in true vermont fashion, i must say. we may be a small state, but we are a proud state. we are a tough state. 

not a single part of me is present in savannah right now. everything i have, everything i think, everything i am is at home in vermont right now. i am a green mountain girl through and through. 

natural disasters are strong, but the human condition is stronger. 

let’s not argue who is worse off. this isn’t the time for that. let’s just take care of ourselves and one another. 

HOME {andrew turgeon}

COME home to a roasting leg of lamb on a finished porch.  Tiki torches and Adirondack chairs in earth tones.  My mother, lounging on the hammock, hookah in hand, she puffs the hashish like a Cheshire cat.  Beckoning me to her side, sifts through my issues, telling me to “just chill out already.”

DAD brings out a beer for me, our hops the finest, finished seven months in the basement.  Cool draught, honeyed metal brew with an allspice bouquet.  Adirondack backs, big-boned chatter, my Dad and I become one another, beer bottle banter.

SISTER placing photographs along the porch walls.  Surge of creativity, she takes a snapshot of me, cuts it up, places the sepia tone pieces in a plastic bag and sends the bag up with a blue balloon.  Sky fading/sky fading.

FREEDOM at LAST, corn casserole and eggplant Parmesan.  I’m weaving that throw rug I was telling you about.  The one made of old t-shirts caught in my closet too long.  I’ll be weaving as the night winds on.  Recessed lighting and my rents playing ping-pong on mahogany floors.

WE MAKE a point to bring the tales of family time to the forefront.  The porch a stage set and soon stories of Dad’s incessant farting, the time Mom went crazy 4am Florida trip, our delight to find a duck pond to thank a fish hatchery.

WEAVING, sewing together the structure of our lives on a porch built by my father, painted by my grandfather, hemmed and hawed over by my mother, her way of placing furniture just so…then letting it all go with another puff from her lofty perch.

TOGETHER ON A PORCH, dusk now and the dreams that we may stay like this forever.  Limoncello lemonade and pretzel sticks in hand.  Sticky scent of hashish and home hover above.