Just a train ride away
spanning family Part 3
When I began writing “Embracing Family,” I guessed it would encompass three posts. As a swimmer, I visualize water in some form or another when I write— a tub, a pool, a river, a sea, or the ocean.
As I lower myself into the waters of this story, I feel the current’s depth and momentum. I’m unsure how many posts it will encompass, but it will be far more than three. I love a good swim. I’m all in. I hope you are as well.
How strong can a blood connection be when you haven’t had the benefit of spending much time together throughout your lifetime? You might be surprised.
I am.
Short reminder: The purpose of my trip is to visit my sister Sharon and cousin RuthAnn, along with their children and grandchildren, to introduce the lot of them. Sharon, RuthAnn, and I share a paternal grandmother. They do not recall ever meeting one another. RuthAnn and I remember meeting one time when I was approximately 8. Neither of us remember another meeting until she visits Rick and me at our home a few years back. I recall approximately 8-10 visits with my sister Sharon and her family throughout my lifetime, perhaps not even that many.
As we exit the grand Portland Union Station, I spot RuthAnn, just five feet tall and slight in build, standing next to her orange Subaru. She sports a bright blue, somewhat spiked, short haircut, and black retro vintage eyeglasses. She will turn 80 this year.
I breathe in a sense of pride.
Pride typically connotes belonging. Hmm?
I am struck by the feeling. But there it is. I’m proud of my cousin, standing there in her overalls, looking so damn cute and obviously very capable at just shy of 80 years old.
Maybe (please) I possess these same genes from our grandmother?
An artist, the back of her Subaru is filled with frames and art paraphernalia. She has not anticipated a cousin who overpacks for even the smallest jaunts.
We will spend the next week getting to know one another.
Rick easily repositions the trunk area, and wallah, our luggage fits. We embark on our way to RuthAnn’s as she navigates the freeways pointing out the exciting and beautiful landmarks of Portland along the way.
There are many.
Within 30 minutes, we arrive at her condo in a gorgeous Portland suburb. The main floor has one bedroom which has been converted to an art studio, a bathroom, kitchen, eating and living area, and a deck that looks out onto a peaceful grove of trees.
RuthAnn sleeps in a small bed that, by day, serves as a couch in the living area. The second floor houses a bathroom and a TV area with a sofa that converts into a bed, which will be our quarters for the visit.
No walls divide us. Instead, the space is open, and the ceilings are tall. RuthAnn’s artwork is everywhere, along with the collection of artwork she has gathered on her life’s journey, and even more important, the artwork she is currently creating (more on this later). We will spend the entire week exploring all the lovelies she has collected, created, is currently creating.
A bit tired from our journey, we settle on the deck in rocking chairs for happy hour instead of venturing out for the acclaimed sushi dinner nearby. RuthAnn cooks us a delicious, simple vegetarian meal. We couldn’t be more satisfied. The three of us strike a balance early; there’s an ease in one another’s presence.
I know, my girl, this extended family thing feels a bit doubtful, given your history, but you might consider embracing it. Go on now, take that deep breath you’re always suggesting everyone else trust in. You can do it.
With a week of exciting plans ahead of us, we settle in one floor above RuthAnn. Rick and I silently play our video games in bed before we nod off, RuthAnn on her phone downstairs silently catching up with her world by text and email. It never dawns on me that we might as well be in the same room, given the open space and lack of walls. That realization doesn’t arrive until long after we have returned home.
We awake to music playing softly from RuthAnn’s small speaker below, a gentle and welcoming invitation to join this new day, a time of reunion and exploring the extraordinary connection of family.
We make our way downstairs, enticed by the aroma of her freshly percolated coffee. The coffee rests in a thermos on the kitchen table next to a container of Trader Joe’s biscotti. RuthAnn froths my cream and delivers a Starbucks-worthy treat. We will spend every morning on our trip in this fashion.
The days ahead continuing next Friday.
May I be as spunky as Ruth Ann at 80!
The best part about this installment of your series is that it is all true. And you have exceeded her goal of writers to leave your readers wanting more. I fit in that category. 😄🤣👍🤗