52 Weeks 500 Words
This is how it began: Justine (not her real name) decided to write 500 words (or as near as), anything goes, per week for 52 weeks. She would then submit it for anonymous posting, via me, her friend. Perhaps a pattern will emerge from her words, but at this stage it’s more an experiment I have agreed to share in. I’ll attempt to draw conclusions at the end of this. Stay tuned if this resonates with you.
Well, as I sit here to pen my weekly unload (virtually, of course!), I find myself giving thought to family dynamics. I do this mostly because a friend was in tears to me earlier, having had a run-in with her son.
I have no family. I am actually alone in the world. My parents have passed on, and I have no children. While I am still ‘young’ enough to do so, I don’t think it will come to pass, and this is largely based on my own selfishness … or a feeling of desperation. I can barely afford to keep myself, how can I do even think of being responsible for a child? I guess if I meet a man able to take care of me and our child, or children, that might change, but I don’t see it happening. I do not trust easily and I may sabotage most relationships to avoid that kind of responsibility. I know this about myself. I admit it.
However, from conversations and eye-witnessing, I realise families come with inherent issues. Maybe it’s genetics, for it seems to me often there are personalities very much alike in one microcosm unit. For instance, father and son. They may be so alike, without ever admitting it to each other, that they are at constant loggerheads. While mom ends up in the background wondering just what the hell she did wrong. Or sometimes right. Mother and daughter may also be so similar that they end up arch enemies because they do not see themselves in each other.
Having viewed multiple family relationships, I have come to this conclusion. We are all too selfish to admit we are wrong, and this leads to those family issues that never seem to be resolved. For instance, a friend just phoned me earlier and told me she has just realised that her oldest son is a younger version of his father, and that means he is as judgemental as they come. She was in tears, and all I could say to her was that they are both grown men and they have to accept responsibility for themselves. As much as it may hurt her, it isn’t her duty to fix them. All she can do is guide and offer advice…when they are in a frame of mind to listen.
Having heard this latest snippet of agony, I am more convinced than ever that my decision to date has been the right one. I hope, though, I don’t die lonely and bitter, because I didn’t see the bigger picture.
The one about immortality through the generations. The one about love despite all the issues. Does love make the world go round? I hope so, for my friend’s sake.'