For Christmas, Mom and Dad compiled all of our home videos and created two DVDs.
I don’t know what it is about home videos
Maybe it is the intense detail of every noise
Like the wrapping paper while we opened presents on
Christmas
Or the waves that crashed against a California beach
While we awaited Disneyland
Or the swish of our snow pants
As we climbed back up the white, cold hill, round, red disk
in hand.
I don’t know if it is the emotions present in our parents’
voices
How they squeal when we smile
Or cheer when we crawl
And maybe that is where it all started,
Our innate need to please our parents
Whatever the case
All I know
Is that when Daddy cheered after I flipped that back-walkover
(it took me 6 tries)
When Dylan showed me how I could brush my brand new Samantha
Doll’s hair (even though he hated dolls)
And Joe read me picture book after picture book in between
showing me how to tie my shoes
All I know, is that their smiles, cheers, and voices lead me
to be who I am today
Maybe it’s the fact that I get to hear Grandma and Grandpa’s
voices again
Grandma’s chuckle as Andy pushes around on his “Shoe” car
Grandpa’s laugh as Andy ignores every birthday present and
obsesses over a cardboard box
My heart ached when I heard their voices
Maybe it was that.
Or maybe it was seeing my cousins, young and carefree
Seeing my siblings without heartbreak
Seeing myself without
complications
It was beautiful
And for a second, I felt a sort of serenity, only a 4-year-old
feels
As I watched that tape of me in the pacific ocean
“She seems content there, building castles in the sand, and
every once in awhile, she jumps over the waves”
And Daddy was right. I was content.
I looked so content, and it makes me feel like maybe I could
remember how that felt.
Sweet little 4-year-old toes splashing in the water
A bright orange vest over my slim, bony shoulders
Minnie Mouse proudly stamped across my tiny swim suit
And all that hair, brown, long, and huge
Austin would say that not much has changed
What is most stunning, to me
Is each of our smiles.
Joey, as he giggles at Dylan’s babbling lingo
Dylan, as he blocks my 4 month old crawling path over and
over
Me, as I help Andy learn how to play with every toy I feel
he needs to understand through my perspective
And Andrew, his smile may just impact me the most, as I
stare, intently into this video
Because his smile is so precious, as if produced by an
angel, which he was at 14 months old.
He stole the show, with big, brown, deep, silent, but so
abruptly loud, eyes
And as I watch
I can’t help but think about all of these voices
That shaped my heart, and my life
Daddy, always unbelievably proud, constantly pushing us to
reach our highest potential
Mom, diligently encouraging
Joey, incredibly knowing and understanding
Dylan, demure, yet empowering
Andy, awkward, quirky, but inspiring
Grandparents, distant, but straightforward at the same time,
giving me such concepts as,
Take care of your mother, you can always accomplish 2 more,
of anything if you put your mind to it, a round of Uncle Wiggly will fix any
boo boo, no matter how big, and so many, many more
I don’t know what it is about home videos
The sweet spirits that once existed within each one of us
Our parents’ undying, unwavering love and support of us
Whatever it is, it makes me cry
Not the sobbing kind of cry
The slow, steady, flowing cry
Where one tear follows another
Absentmindedly
