Delores, Dan, and Washing Behind Your Ears

Stabile:

Boingggg

On understanding

“But how am I supposed to hear what hasn’t been said?” asked bear.

Fox smiled, knowing that bear would answer her own question soon enough.

Thoughts while making...

Her name was Delores. And she lived on a farm. She drove a truck and had a clawfoot tub.

Her parents, Dan and Mabel, had a house on that same dusty road. Mabel kept her long lavender white hair pinned up throughout the day. Once through a crack in the door, I saw her brushing it in the quiet halflight before sleep. I was seven.

.

I’m not sure Dan knew my name. He called me “Corn cob.” And laughed each time he did.

Mabel’s sister, Lillian, had a gray Siamese cat, Saymieu, who apparently passed an inordinate amount of gas and whose tail had been lopped off in an unfortunate garage door incident.

Lillian married James Jeremiah, a founding fellow of the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology. He died vacationing in Hawaii. He was my grandfather. My dad’s dad.

Lillian was my grandmother. Mabel and Dan, my Great Aunt and Uncle. Delores with her clawfoot tub, my cousin.

“Did you wash behind your ears?” Delores asked me once after taking a bath. I was still seven and I lied: “Yes,” I said, looking at the floor.

I think about that moment just about every time I’ve taken a bath since, unable to wash free from it.

Oddly, this stabile reminds me of an ear, which sparked this memory. But it also makes me think of a family tree, of our history of connections – those cellular and those chosen – upon which we align and orient, finding support and strength as we hang out here in this one grand life.

Can you think of one connection you can reach out to today to thank for lifting you up and giving your life a supportive spin?