in memory of my memorial day.

Home was great this weekend. Not amazing, but great. There were so many ups and downs that I can't really classify it as amazing. Home itself, the water, my dog - were amazing. Family, well, they're family. I love them but wow, they take the life out of me sometimes.

Weekend begins: Noley (my younger sister) and I rent a convertible (why the eff not?) and drive to Delaware to visit my dad. Typical Dad visit - smoking, drinking, eating seafood. I ate my weight in crab legs, oysters, clams, shrimp, and scallops. It was incredible. Dad's girlfriend turned 50, so we made her a cake, she dressed up in a fat suit - it was truly a night to remember.

Weekend continues: Driving back to Deale with my sister, top down, 80 degrees outside... sun on the shoulders. Perfect. I love her. Back in Deale, great to see my mom, but I know she's somewhat unhappy. Why? because she told me so. That is very painful to hear from the woman who I have always thought had it all together. I know her unhappiness is temporary. She is walking around on a broken leg, owns a swimming pool store and it's May, and is just stressed. Her leg is limiting her, and she can't stand it. She tries to do things with the broken leg that she'd never even try to do without one. Very strange.

Weekend ends: This is the day from heaven and hell all at once. I suppose that being raised with the typical Catholic guilt bred in my system, I was always told that when something bad happened to me that it was "God punishing me." Ok, sure. Well, whatever I did to piss the big man off, he got me back for it yesterday. He got me real good.

Morning begins: After an evening of cleaning up my best friend's puke out of my mom's imported sink (that doesn't drain puke very well), we wake up to find that her friend has puked on my mom's heirloom rug, couch, and pillows. Not only has she puked and totally blew it off like it was no big deal, whatever she drank was BRIGHT RED. Like she drank a bottle of cherry-flavored syrup, is what I would compare it to. UGH.

So needless to say, mom is FURIOUS. Broken-legged, she starts vacuuming, cleaning, and I can tell she's so very upset. We get everyone out of the house and then we spend the next few hours fighting, crying, and apologizing. But we're all very upset with some things that were happening. We had plans to go out on the boat with my mom's boyfriend, who decided he would invite other people out on the boat and made the plans around them, so we were upset about that. After more fighting and crying, we decide to say "fuck it" and to go Annapolis to go on the boat. Best friend bails out b/c she's hungover. I'm sad.

Boat time: Mom has a broken leg. Mom is stubborn and thinks she is superwoman. Mom gets wasted, which makes the previous two issues exponentially worse. I can't help but think about how she told me she was unhappy, and no matter how hard I tried to enjoy the gorgeous water, I couldn't stop thinking about her sadness, so I was sad. Yes, there was a lot of fun going on, but it was definitely overshadowed by her. It was still beautiful, but sad.

Travel time: Crying when I took the exit for the airport as mom and sister went towards home. I didn't care about the wind in my hair, the sun on my back, I just cried. I want to go home and help. I get over myself, and I get to the airport. Budget rental car blows holes. Waiting in line while other people keep going up to the counter, totally acting like they don't see the line. Whatever people. I have a flight to catch. I get very irritated, because I'm only waiting in line because something was mixed up and they couldn't return my car the normal way. Get on the plane. The guy next to me was weird. Creepy. Eerily still the entire flight, like he was preparing to do something awful. I kept thinking he was going to blow up the plane at any minute. Fall in and out of a strange sleep, where I kept having little scary nightmares. Get off the plane, I'm sick as shit. Have to run to the airport bathroom. Start sweating. Great, I think, that creepy guy released a virus on the plane. (I admit, I've watched too much 24.) Back is killing me.

Get in my car, get home. THANK GOD. Oh, except there is a stick on my windshield. I stop my car, get out to remove the stick, and when my car starts ROLLING FORWARD, with me half out of it, I realize, SHIT, I'm still in drive. At this point, I'm so exhausted, I couldn't even comprehend what was happening. Luckily, all that was in front of me was woods, but I was definitely in them, my body half hanging out of my car. It took me a minute to realize what was happening too....like, why am I getting run over here? It hurt pretty badly.

Get in my room. Thank God for something about this day. Cord. He listened to me whine for a half hour. Take my clothes off, I am covered in some sort of rash. Sick. I'm having the worst day of my life, really. What did I do, God? What did I do? Thanking him for cuddles, I finally fall asleep after the longest day in history. Happy Memorial Day to me. This one will be hard to get out of my memory.

I Wake up. Today is a new day. I look at my pictures from the weekend and realize that the weekend as a whole was great. Not every trip is going to be paradise, perfect, and amazing. That's the thing about family. You take it all - the bad and the good. The drunk and the sober, the injured and the healthy. I've had all of those experiences this weekend. I'm glad to be back in my normal life, but I want to go back and just hug my parents, cuddle with my dog, and smell the salty air. Feel the bay water on my face. Close my eyes and feel the sun on my shoulders.....