My momma came to visit me for two days. She slipped into the institute with that adaptable ease that makes her comfortable in most any space. She took full use of fresh air, fresh food and yoga. Yesterday she left as I stood up to my elbows in gray dish water with a sinking feeling in my stomach.
When I was younger I had what could be described as separation anxiety on speed. If my parents had put one of those creepy kid leashes on me, I probably would have rejoiced. Then in high school, I loved to leave home, travel by myself and take trips, joyously savoring each mile that took me further.
Nowadays I've re-sensitized myself to leaving my family. Since the first day of college when my parents left me in that grimy dorm room, I've felt a strong (but fleeting) pull to go back home and stay. After brief pangs I am usually restored. My wanderlust and solitude reenter. But there is a moment when I see that the old tradition of living with all of your family, extended family, and family by marriage is practical and appealing.
I have this theory about big families. I feel like it's a built in psychotherapy system. If you are surrounded by any tight knit community, you are forced to talk through every bad mood, tear and moment of grief. None of your thoughts have too much time to coagulate and become toxic and stagnant inside you. Now Angelina and Brad make total sense, don't they? Free therapy.