Diamonds are forever. Are families?
The days march towards Spring, yet Winter bites with chill enough to freeze pipes, plug up running water. We wait for warmer temperatures to thaw our wellsprings and hearts. The family of cold sticks together, as does mine. Ice seldom leaves snow behind, with whipping winds close by. A family portrait that freezes you on your walks from work. We’re all bound by Winter’s chain.
I noticed my sister’s chain earlier today, as I scurried about the kitchen, wishing the water wasn’t frozen- asking myself why I didn’t wear socks. I am impressed to say I see a lot of gold about our necks as of late. I cannot even guess where exactly she got it. Her pendant mysterious as the whole piece’s origins, I lack the faculty to describe it.
About my brother’s chest hangs necklaces too, all gold. His tastes amuse me so. Even with clothing that oughta hide these accessories, he maintains the presence of mind to pull them out, so they hang on-top and upfront. He keeps them visible like a nametag, as if we forgot his identity without them.
“Oh, who’re you? Wait, I see the chains. What’s up, bro?”
His attendance to an all-boys school concerns me, aside from the fashion choices. There, bad ideas become worse, exacerbated by conformity, juvenile masculinity, and a lack of discretionary judgement. I keep tabs and hear of drug use in the bathroom and innuendo for group names during trivia. I believe in his ability to discern, then I see his overt display of jewelry. I remain ill at ease…
Even my mother sports one lately – a skinny link that hangs with the weight of a charm. It reads LIBRA for her horoscope with a tiny scale, off-balance. Her judgements quick, I wouldn’t describe her as the picture of judgement- declining to use a dishwasher is questionable, at best. Yet, the choice to find a better life in another country has had some of the intended perks.
My father, the stoic, seldom rocks a chain- save for special occasions. I doubt he sported any jewelry to the funeral he and my mother attended today. He is a man with reason, albeit he doesn’t listen to those belonging to others. He works for his family, to serve and protect them.
I wear the chain I was given early in my life. By some miracle, it still rests comfortably, though it appears closer to a choker now. My mother told me she had it blessed by a priest. It… comforts me in a way I can’t explain, to wear it. For a time, my mother misplaced it though. I went nearly a decade naked, gently reminding her of its importance to me. Since finding it, I haven’t removed it- not even to sleep.
We are bound, my family, by more than blood and idle promise. I worry my brother’s a mess, following my example. I think my sister’s consuming too much nonsense content, creating too little with her imagination. My parents, for an abundance of ambition but lack of financial literacy, continue to wildly start businesses. And I, for one, might worry too much.
We’re cooked. Crazy or not though, I elect to archive our portraits and speak to our past and present with these pictures. If not, our moments would remain stuck, frozen, as we repeat history, ignorant to our own histories.
We’re golden.
Post Summary
A record breaking cold front rests on the better part of the region where I live. Our pipes can hardly take the cold. No better than I can walk in 12-degree weather.
I’m related to these crazy people, not just by blood and steel, but gold as well. They all have their tasks and aims, while mine is to picture them all. For stories to tell our families and families to follow, I write and picture the days of our lives.
