If you sat at a table with me, when I was little, gave me crayons and paper, I would draw you a picture of my family. I’d introduce you to my stick figure rendition of Mom, Dad, Julie, and me lined up in height order. Floating just above a wobbly green line, our abstract lawn, alongside a triangle topped house.
Dad works with flowers and trees in the nursery. On the weekends he leaves half a pack of Life Savers on my dresser before he leaves for work. He thinks I’m sleeping but I’m not.
Mom calls me her Wee Cheekie Birdie. It’s from a song she sings when we’re at the park. We swing and sing about ten little monkeys rolling in a bed and count the green bottles on the wall. When I have trouble sleeping she sings Mommy’s eyes are smiling. That one is my favorite.
My big sister Julie and I sneak into our parent’s room when mom is not looking. She’ll hold me by the hands and twirl us really fast. One time my feet even left the ground. That was the best. We do this until we get dizzy. She helps me when I can’t do things so I eat her pizza cheese. She hates cheese.
That’s me. I am Mia. I have a green big girl’s bed and an orange rug. I sit at my play table and make spaghetti with my Play Dough fun Factory. There’s a bucket of big LEGOs in the corner. I like those better than Julie’s little one. Mine have wheels so I can build a car. I like playing with those little cars, but only the ones where the doors open. How else can people get in and out?
Bessie is our dog. She is a Chihuahua. She doesn’t like strangers. I think she only likes Mom.
Nana-D is my Italian Nana. She plays the Italian station on her radio. Her favorite is Mi Scappa La Pipi, Papa, because Julie and I have a dance for that one. It is a funny song about a little boy who wet his pants. Pop-Pop like his rocking chair. I sit on his knee and he gives me Hershey’s miniatures When Nana isn’t looking. He calls me something in Italian I can’t spell.
Nana-S lives in Scotland. She is my Scottish Nana. They only have four TV channels there. Pop-Pop promises me if I was to move there I will be able to get Mr. Belvedere. They come to stay with us sometimes. They bring us sweeties when they do. Sweeties are like candy only Scottish. Nana calls me hen even though I’m not a chicken. Pop-Pop must be a magician. Whenever Mom turns her back he pulls his teeth out for me. Mom doesn’t believe me.
When I found out he couldn’t work anymore. I ran up to my room. I emptied my piggy bank. I managed to save up $5. I handed the contents to Mom. I asked her to send it to Nana and Pop- Pop. I thought they might need it more than I did.
About the time Doug and I were planning our wedding I realized that my definition of what makes a family changed. It is no longer just my stick figure family on our little green line lawn.
Instead of stick figures next to a house, I draw you two trees. I start with first. At the roots. Our support system. Our foundation. Our joined families. Parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters.
Each branch aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews. Families we grew along the way. Close family friends that became aunts, uncles, and cousins. Personal friends now brothers and sisters. Their children our nieces and nephews. IKEA family. Neighborhood News Family. EMS Family. FDNY family.
I start the second. This tree is Doug and I. A cutting if you will, from the larger more established tree. We are the roots. The trunk. The young leaf. We will nourish it. Help it flourish and grow. One day this tree will be part of the roots. The support. The foundation of a future large tree.
This was a post via Daily Prompt: Abstract