Hanging Up

Thinking about birth order a lot on a suggestion in an earlier comment. Then Hanging Up comes on this afternoon with Diane Keaton, Meg Ryan and Lisa Kudrow. Where Walter Mathau is their dying father. There are some similarities between these characters and my relationship with my sisters, though I don't identify most with Diane Keaton's character, who is the oldest child. And I really don't see any of my youngest sister in Lisa Kudrow's character, who is the youngest child. I didn't tend to, but I ended up watching the entire thing.

I know some day we'll have to go through something like that with our parents. This has been high in my mind since Grammie's passing anyway. I sometimes worry that I'll be edged out. Because in life I do often feel edged out. Mostly because I don't have any grandchildren, I'm more easily ignored. I envision having to fight my way in, bring out the claws in order to get any one-on-one quality time . . . and I'm not sure I'll bother. I'm more apt to silently skulk away with regret and let resentment fester. But at least maybe if I'm fully aware of this tendency within myself, I might catch myself and be able to reach some other conclusion when the time comes. Maybe it won't be like that at all. It's insane to worry about such things now.

There's a scene in the movie at the end, after their father has died, at Thanksgiving, when the sisters are all in the kitchen cooking a turkey together and sipping red wine. They get into a bit of a food fight and it's all fun, the stereotypical family fun scene. And it reminds me of one Christmas at my mom's house. I remember all of us being in the kitchen and the best of the Beatles tape playing on the stereo. I remember everyone singing. Well, all the girls anyway. My sisters, my mother and myself. I remember coming down the hall from the bathroom and stopping just at the edge to the room by the table and watching for a second. I remember thinking that it would never be more perfect than it was just then at that moment with smiles on everyone's faces, the Beatles blaring, the women of my family dancing around one another preparing the holiday feast.

And I was right. It was never the same again, never as perfect as that moment. I'm glad I took the time to stop and acknowledge what was happening because now without having a photo, without having any keepsake, it's a moment etched in my memory that I'll always cherish.