Tonight I looked up into the sky after a New Year's party and saw a perfectly clear sky and STARS. We get stars so rarely over here at night, even in the summer--to start the new year off in such a way was such a hope-inspiring event. God knows I could use some hope for the new year. Last year wasn't the WORST year of my life, but it certainly wasn't best. Except for getting the job, that was nice.

2010 did not end on a good note. I had the misfortune of chancing upon my ex-boyfriend at the park Christmas night when Stephen, Grandpa and I went to look at the lights. And while I was still trying to recover from that encounter, I had to see my sister off to the east coast for another 6 months. And the day after that, I was hit with terrible homesickness for my grandparents to add to the deep sadness of not seeing my sister or hearing from her again for another 6 months. If only Sam were more communicative, I wouldn't worry so much about her when she leaves.

I very much enjoyed seeing my grandparents for Christmas and being back in my familiar hometown, but the trip had its tough spots. Stephen suggested a story-telling pennies game we did with his family last Christmas, where everyone draws a penny from a bag and tells a story from that year of their life (unless they weren't born, in which case they draw another penny). Well, the first year I drew was 1999, which was the first "worst year of my life," where I lost a friend, a role model, and a beloved pet during the tumultuous years of junior high. (They didn't die, they just moved on in life. Well, we sold the horse for $1, but she probably didn't last much past the sale.) I actually replaced the penny and drew another, because all I could think was Appy, Angela, Abby; Appy, Angela, Abby; and I didn't want to confess ANY of those stories. The only one my grandparents knew about was the horse, Appy (or Happy), and I didn't want to bring THAT back to mind either. (Grandpa found me in the basement, crying my eyes out because they had sold Appy without my permission. Grandpa said, "I didn't know she meant that much to you," and I couldn't say anything, because of course he didn't. I didn't confide in anybody but my diaries.)

Anyway, the next draw was 2005--not too hard. But I still could only think of things I'd never told my grandparents....I drew one other coin, I think, before the last one I drew, which happened to be 2004, the true worst year ever. Thankfully, the game ended before my turn came. But I was sweating bullets, it felt like, in the time before my turn, entangled in memories I wanted to just keep repressing, knowing my family would understand if I said I preferred not to share any stories from that year, but feeling guilty for wanting to keep hiding.

I learned some valuable things, though. When the game ended before my turn came, I said exaggeratedly, "Oh good, I didn't want to tell stories from that year anyway."

They wanted to know, of course, which year it was and what happened, and I said lightheartedly, "Oh, nothing, I just dated the totally wrong guy for me and spent my first couple months of college in desperate loneliness. Oh, and that was also the year I was finishing up Winter Guard, which I HATED with everything in me!" It was all said in a very lightheartedly sarcastic way--the way my mom deflects things she doesn't want to talk about. I deflected attention off the real painful center of my year--Nate--by talking about how much I hated Winter Guard and why, telling no lies and using very little exaggeration.

And Grandpa said, "But we were very proud of you," in an earnest way that couldn't be mistaken. "You stuck in there," he said. "We were very proud of you."

That's, like, the most encouraging remark I've ever heard my grandpa make.

I learned in this trip, and especially that night, that Grandpa does, indeed, love us very much. He just does his best not to show it in emotional ways, for reasons of his own, unbeknownst to any of us. (Except perhaps Grandma, who has spent the last 55 years with him. But even so, she would protect his own desires by not really telling us the whole story, even if presented with the opportunity.)

I feel as though my family has been through a lot of pain and it has hit them very deeply, but I know nothing about this pain that they have been through, because they never, ever speak about it. They would prefer to have their secrets buried with them. How I wish I could tell them and make them believe we would understand, if only they would just trust us...

If only, if only...

That's the one thing I remember most from the book Holes, which I had to read twice for different classes. I also remember her red, poisonous fingernails, canned spiced peaches, water that runs upward, and "boogs" as Stanley teaches Zero to read, but whenever I get into this kind of mood, that lyric echos in my mind. I only ever remember the first part, but here is the rest:

"If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs,
The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies.
The wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,
And cries to the moon,
if only, if only."

So anyway...... Here is to hoping the new year goes much, much better than the old.

-Stephanie

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