The neighborhood I grew up in always had great tree coverage and plenty of old tall oaks. Since the tornado we haven’t had any trees.

I moved home shortly after.

Having always been the frugal family within a showy affluent neighborhood, our yard is still bare while everyone else has freshly planted trees and newly sodded lawns. I still swear off needless spending and pleasure seeking, but at what point does a home in disrepair reflect the inhabitants inside. Some days I feel like I live in a house with no joy or life. I self isolate in my room and convince myself how things are going to be even better than they were before. The funny thing is, when I decided to be the heroic son. To move home and become a caretaker. I knew that it’d be tough, but I never thought I’d crumble so severely. It’s easy to delude yourself into noble decisions. To think that at 23, I would transform into a man able and step into the hole my dad has left. This is not to say that others cannot, but that I have not. I have loved all of my hospital and home care jobs, yet I fail to support and come alongside my mom as she drowns in responsibilities. Worse even, I’ll hold resentment against her. My resentment will show itself when she reaches her limit nonetheless.

Last week my dad got fixated on a family trip to Seattle. This was directly after my mom and I had been talking about all of the nearby national parks (a passion of mine). We had been saying how we drove to Florida too much during my childhood. My mom and I reminisced about how we had traded mountains and trails for touristy beaches every year. We shouldn’t, but it can be easy to talk candidly about my dad in front of him. The context being that my dad had always wanted to move to Florida (and had done so successfully until the diagnosis and progression of his disease). For some reason, Florida had always been the family ritual. To my dad, it represented grandkids and Christmas’. We always crammed into a small damp condo every Christmas break that had been left in a trust to my extended family after my Dad’s father passed away. When the trust ran out, the condo was sold and split between my dad and my aunt.

Now we have to keep my Dad’s phone away from him after several attempts to contact Florida realtors.

So to me, when my dad became fixated on A family trip to Seattle, I saw his longing to do something for his family. Although he has limited ability to express himself, it was his classic show of emotionally distant love. I chose a more hurtful response. Understandably, my mom raised her voice and made it clear that there would be no family trip to Seattle. In turn, the self isolating non productive “caretaker” chose this moment to then berate his mom for being so harsh. He wasn’t satisfied until he saw that she was on the verge of tears.

The photo attached was the last time I drove to Michigan from Florida with my parents. We loaded up a u-haul and emptied out the condo.

Shot on Kodak Vision 3 250d

Pentax K-100

I plan to semi regularly (every other day? Weekly?) write these reflections. I can’t promise much resolution, but I can promise that I’ll honestly reflect the thoughts that I’m wrestling with. Additionally, I do sincerely love my life, my family, and the place of life that I’m in (but not necessarily how I got here). I hope to depict how I’ve been rediscovering my joy and at the very least this writing feels pretty therapeutic to me.