diners and families...

a diner. lulu’s café. unknown redding locale. 730am. oh yes, I’m the only one in the diner. dark purple leather bound boothes. and, yes, the ‘older’ waitress is talking my ear off about this and that. even though I’m a bit bleary-eyed, the glinting-windowed sun and the shitty diner coffee are making it all perfect in the only way that it can be. oh yeah, and I’m having greasy-good corned-beef hash and eggs. yum.

how funny families are. with their twists and turns and dark corner pockets.

I call my cousin denise up three weeks ago, who I haven’t seen in ten years, and ask her if I can crash at her place for the night on my way up north. we exchange pleasantries for a minute. realizing our lives are nothing alike, the silence is nice but awkward. she says, ‘I have two kids now’. I knew this, but with both of us at 25, it’s strange.

yet, the ‘family factor’, warmed us up from the get go, and we talked like old friends. who live different lives. who’ve never known each other as adults. (but you get the idea). the boys are three and one. a handful. their dad’s in prison, and his brother, who was helping, is now also in prison. let’s just say that they really discriminate against the Indians up here in norcal (that’s feather, not dot.)

so, I fell into stride, believe it or not, playing mr mom/cousin/babysitter. she doesn’t cook (what?), so I suggested we go to the store and get some grub. flash-forward. I’m holding the little one in my left arm, keeping the fridge closed with my foot, so the older one won’t the candy bar that’s inside, and frying up chicken and corn in a skillet in my right. I think I laughed out loud.

we tipped back a few brews and talked family. how strange it is, how it binds us together but how lucky we are to have it. whether it’s for a last minute baby sitter, or just for someone who somehow feels closer than a friend.

next stop, Oregon. I kinda wish I was riding a horse…