My Kansas parents are so incredibly kind to one another it is a modeling that, even at 40, I admire. Momma Wilder thanked Dad over and over for the things he did for her. She always asked him if there was things she could do for him and vise versa. The two of them laughed together, really laughed. Dad hugged Diane and gave her little pats all the time she received a lot of positive feedback for all the kind things she did. Finally, I couldn't stand it and I complemented the both of them for their behaviors to one another. Diane said that they had always worked on that and over time it is just the way it got to be. It was work however. Well, the poor man who gets me just got another behavioral expectation put on his plate. Poor man.
Another thing I found very curious were the family resemblances. People say there are things that have nothing to do with living with one another and I have always believed that, but until now, had never experienced it. I was humored over and over again by the little things and the big things. Now, I had never had communication with my brother David before I went to Kansas. To say the least, I was a little hesitant to see what he thought of this other sister he had and how we would interact. Funny thing was there were several times the words I was thinking came right out of his mouth. I was dumbfounded. And then I would laugh. My sister, Jenna, and I have similar mannerisms, are not the quiet, reserved type (who knew?), and I told my parents that perhaps it was good that they didn't have to raise the two of us together. We both have the same hazel eyes, both have the same chicken poc scar on our foreheads and we even said some things in unison a couple of times. It was really, really funny. There were the physical resemblances too. Cheekbones, smiles, eyes, hands for me and dad, just things that our DNA provide. My father and I walk around singing to ourselves all day and like the same classic rock genre. We both like to cook and I think our personalities have some similar qualities too.
Something that made me very sad and ponderous was how little information and photographs that the Wilder family had of me. There were only a handful of pictures from about age 3mo to about age 8...and that was it. Putting myself in their shoes, what a horrible place to be stuck- a daughter you cannot imagine beyond the year of age 8-that nearly broke my heart. Added on to that was the negligible amount of information they had of me after I moved to Spokane with my mother about age 2 1/2. And quite frankly, how little information I had of what my biological set of parents relationship was built upon. I pretty much knew nothing. Now I get to ponder why I was never told and is it even important anyway? I just don't know. I am not really good at just letting things go unfortunately, so we will see how that flies.
Finally, Momma Wilder, in all of our conversations about growing up and being the kind of teacher I am and my other life experiences would say over and over-"You really could write a book." Does she know how many times that has popped into my head? Then the Gremlin of the Month says, "You could write one, but it ain't getting published Sister. No one wants to read what you have to say." All the frickin' time...UGH! You never know...perhaps I do have something to say.
Something else to add to my list of pondering.
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