I'm again wondering which direction my life should take; i.e. which way will lead me to the best life (by completely subjective standards, obviously). I've realized that I can control my own destiny to an acceptable extent, and I keep wondering which path would be better. It's been a process that began when I was 10 years old on our first family trip to Colorado, when I thought to myself: "This is different from what I'm used to. I could live here, and I could be happy."
When I was little I couldn't sleep at night, imagining my own bright future. I had slow-sleep insomnia; the hours I didn't spend sneaking a reading light, I spent on my back, staring at the ceiling as though it were a television screen and my future was an infinite movie reel. I think back about that little girl, and I wonder if she would like me now. Would she be proud of herself? Or would she be disappointed in me?
It was more acute when I left for Middlebury. I had a tangible decision in front of me: love or career. Other or self. Dave or Russia? Family or profession? My brother or myself? The small life or the big life?
I got so caught up wondering which way to go, I forgot to enjoy the path I'd chosen.
My brother is 18. My mother is stir-crazy and needs a chance to explore life for herself. My brother needs the same. If they remain the way they are now, with my mother assuming the role of martyred care-giver for special-needs offspring while my brother chafes for independence, it will never happen for either of them. I'm the only one in my family who seems capable of accepting and inciting even the most modest of changes. My mother, sister, and brother have never even seen the ocean. Their world is very limited and protected. I don't want to expose them unduly, but I do want to show them something more.
I worry that Scott won't be capable of independent living. I worry, if he comes to live with me, it will be forever, it will be too much, it will never get any better and we'll have to go to Plan B, which is assisted living. There's one in Wichita that my ex-stepbrother lives in; it's like a nursing home with semi-private apartments.
Only my mother and sister went with me on that first drive to Vermont. I wanted to go on a girlie road trip, but mostly I didn't want to be alone on my way to a new school and the beginning of my graduate program. Scott wanted to go, of course, but we were going in a really small vehicle... and my sister, mother, and I never travel without some sort of drama (even for a mere few hours). We could only imagine the arguments that would occur during 3 days in a car together... especially with me already being anxious and cranky! We (and especially I) were worried that it would be too much, so Scott ended up staying the week with Dad. I didn't even think about it, until Laine told me that Scott said: "Lindsey doesn't want me to come on the trip to Vermont." It broke my heart instantly just hearing it.
It's not that I didn't want him to go! Just as Adrienne took it open herself to teach me how to "travel," I wanted to show my sister and mother the northeast corner of the US. We made small side trips to a secluded shore on Lake Erie and the over-traversed Niagara Falls. All Scott got were some dinky souvenirs.
It's not that I didn't want his company or considered him a burden, but I wanted the trip with Scott to be a separate event. My brother requires special care, and I wanted to be in the right mindset to provide that care. Scott and Dad came for the trip BACK from Vermont, immediately after graduation. Granted, I'd gone back home numerous times over those 2 years, in between flights/rides from Vermont to Montreal to Moscow, to Kiev and Vilnius, to St. Petersburg, New York, and back to Vermont. It was symbolic, damn it! The FIRST time I went to Vermont, I drove with my closest female family members. After graduation, when I was leaving for the last time, I drove with my boys!
I took them to Bristol Falls the morning of the graduation ceremony. I didn't swim, but they jumped right in. I took countless pictures from the rocky precipice overlooking the waterfall, which was modest but still swollen from the spring thaw. Scott jumped from a lower bank into the ice-cold, crystal clear water, while Dave and Dad jumped off the edge of the cliff into the the pool. They had the best time that day, and it somehow made up for all the fun my mother, sister, and I had on the way up without them.
Ugh... there are screaming football fans in the apartment beneath me right now. It's a balmy night, with gusting southerly winds crashing into arctic air from the north; creating a wintry, icy mess as close as Nebraska. But it's still 50 degrees here for now, and quite nice! I'm going to bed, but first I'm going to make Dave watch an awful internet video clip sent to me by a friend so he can tell me what happens because, from the sounds of it, this is
not something I want to watch myself... but, for some reason, I NEED TO KNOW the details of what happens. I'll outsource the actual viewing to my hapless boyfriend and let him give me the nitty-gritty while I cover my eyes.
At first I was annoyed because, every time I'd walk through the kitchen, my rug was laying in a crinkled heap against the wall. Often, my cat would be crouched atop it, a wild look in her eye. I found it annoying and chastised her lazily while shooing her away and straightening the rug.
