Thursday, February 17, 2011

beginnings of stories

I worry about losing Jenny, still, seven years after she died. I want to remember that feeling of having her in my life, and the luxury of taking it all for granted. She was so fiercely loyal to those she loved, and would expect the same.

What was it like, having my sister with me? She made me laugh a lot, and sing and dance at unexpected times, in unexpected places, because she really, truly wanted everyday life to feel like an episode of "Fame." Why can't we all just jump up on tables and do a show-stopping number?

So I thought of you today, Jenny, and tried to carry you with me as I danced hip hop in the park, tossed sparkly rocks into the river, walked the trails of the sustainable agriculture farm that you would have loved, and kissed my children goodnight.

It's not a fair world, this world without you. I want to rail against something, or fix something, or do something that would make these past seven years just a really touching scene from "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." A movie you would have loved.

Genevieve, who never knew you, has taken to looking at pictures of you and saying, "My auntie." Maybe there's a way to slip through the cracks and find you again, make it more than just something she says.

So I'll keep trying to evoke you.

I remember your reading Clo the cow bulletin boards on the drive to Santa Rosa.
You loved going to restaurants.
You turned down the corners of pages in catalogs, and we would laugh because you'd turn down so many, and never buy anything. Or was that me?
You sneaked into a bulldozer.
You practically sat on my feet when we did abdominal crunches.
Your love for certain products perplexed me, particularly Dryel. But I understood loving the drain catcher.
No coffee, not after the Seattle incident. Except birthday lattes.
Having the art postcard was almost as good as seeing the painting.
Bags full of envelopes, to-do lists, receipts, and the beginnings of stories.

Ah, too many stories left untold! How did we run out of time?


Rois said...

I was reminded of Jenny today when I turned on the radio in the car and heard-"Keep me hanging on." So many times I hear a song, see a picture or read a passage and she is there. I do miss her! Take care Serena.

Steve Lafler said...

Rois, so lovely to hear from you. Do you know I had forgotten about "Keep Me Hanging On" and that was a key song for her. I'm glad she returns to you, too. I have a basket of old notes and cards to and from Jenny, and there's one in there from you, from the receptionist desk, telling her KFOG is playing "Old Black Water" right now. I love that she kept that and now, of course, I have to keep it. Take care, xoxo, Serena

Serena said...

Well great, dumb, I posted under Steve's login, but it was me, I promise. xoxo