And Who Knew Beverly Hills Had Potholes?
Thanksgiving, 2015; the much anticipated mini-week of family, Mom’s specialties, new family favs, shared moments of pride and progress and lots and lots of face time.
Unbeknownst to any of us, a storm was brewing that threatened to rip to shreds all that is dear. The storm? Oh, it’s the same one that had been circling my family’s globe since day one! We call it Sisterhood. Uh, feel free to call yours whatever you like
The sly remarks. The little digs. The micro-managing. The ever-present vein of tension and the gentle sound of cracked egg shells as we walked on them wherever my Sister was concerned was then tantamount to a hurricane. Translation; I couldn’t take it anymore!
I imagined myself Sally Fields’ iconic character Norma Rae pumping a Union sign over my head as I rallied my family to join me in stopping this war against a simple good time. I fired back at my Sister letting her know that just because she talks the loudest and the longest doesn’t mean we agree with everything she says. Maybe a little getting even is a good thing. It worked, I guess. She retreated to her bedroom without another word. Yay! Or so I thought…
I was left with so much anger and pain; the kind that makes your heart ache, you know? It all came tumbling back; the awkward childhood, the wishing, the longing. The fact that my Sister is the first person to never really like me. I pause here to breathe because it’s a hard truth to live with.
Breathe. I needed air. My Husband said let’s go for a drive. Off to the beach we zipped in his pocket rocket; a suped-up Mini Cooper. We took the path of our youth enjoying Los Angeles regretting we ever left to raise kids in nowheresville.
From there, the conversation and Jack, my Husbands name for the Mini, took us to The Sunset Strip. I don’t know, maybe just to see if it was still there. We headed through Beverly Hills and Bel Air to gaze upon opulence and the fruits of staggering wealth only to discover a winding road of potholes!
Wait, what? Who knew Beverly Hills had potholes? Well, if there are imperfections even in paradise, what else could I be missing?
In the shower this morning, I decided to forgive my Sister void of her apology owed to me and my family. Why? I know it’s the right thing to do but I confessed to the Lord that I’m still full of and adding to my list of 105 Reasons we’d be better without her!
He reminded me of how beautiful knotty pine grows. Clearly there’s an irritant, an interruption, an opposition. Still the tree ballets around it and the irritant becomes the beauty of it like a pearl, an unplanned pregnancy, a remote island in an otherwise undisturbed sea.