Back in the D!

Before my week of random tasks and misadventures in Cincinnati concluded, I attended a press conference today-- Congressman Steve Driehaus spoke about health care reform that passed in the House this past weekend. While I was listening to his remarks, I was acutely aware of the fact that I was standing 20-something feet away from a guy who played a role in truly historical legislation. So entirely awesome. And quite fitting...I started my week in Cinci with Election Day, touting the wonders of democracy and thanking/congratulating voters that emerged from the building with their "I Voted" stickers-- and then I ended my week applauding the other end of the electoral process, the intrepid politician. Ahh. Yeah, I'm due for a hot date with The West Wing.

Aside from the press conference, today was tough. As I've mentioned, my grandmother is in the process of packing up her home, and moving into the Grandma Dorm. She's lived in that house for, I think, 35 years-- most of those years she shared it with my late grandfather. Going through the house, pulling it apart, and identifying each item that may have some significance is awful. I have been visiting that house a few times a year since I was merely a cluster of cells. I have countless, vivid memories of fun and mischief in and around the house. (There was some borderline illegal activity. There were also a lot of lawn volleyball, mosquito bites, laughing, debating, and discussions of which was the best day to go to King's Island.) It was within those walls, or on that property, that I learned my history, developed relationships with my family, and figured out where I fit in the larger picture. Every summer, my entire maternal family gathered at that house to celebrated the 4th of July, and to mark the passing of another year. It could be stressful and overwhelming at times, but it was always nice to walk in and think, "I'm bound to every person in this room-- we each have a stake in each others triumphs and disappointments."

Now that the house is being sold, my family has lost its physical epicenter. Ever since my grandfather passed away in July of 2007, the idea of change has been inevitable. But, now, it's a little more real and a little harder to take. There is a large wooden table in my grandmother's kitchen, and it expands to fit several extra leaves-- it's a fitting analogy to my family. It goes back a long time, it always has room for just one more person, it is imperfect, and it is ultimately a comfort. Thousands of meals, thousands of card-games, thousands of jokes, stories, arguments-- these are the things that comprise a family, and they all take place at the table. Soon, that table will be gone. The bookshelves will be emptied. The cabinets won't be stocked with ridiculous quantities of food. The piles of extra blankets will be donated or claimed by different relatives. Suck city. I have one more visit tentatively planned before the house will be be vacated-- and I'm now officially accepting any donations of legal or illegal uppers for the occasion. Thanksverymuch.

I will reiterate: I am SO OVER 2009. 2009 and I had a rocky relationship from the get-go, what with a disappointing New Year's Eve and a January full of severe medical WTFiness. And even though I'm grateful for the success of February 16th, and the fact that I am blissfully devoid of tumor bullshit, I want to break up with 2009. Enough's enough.