Soul Stories: Write about High Tide

A well-equipped woodworker's workshop

Write about high tide. 

The ticket cost $1500.  But I had to take the trip.  I am not used to being there for someone.  The dynamics of family are sometimes lost on me.  Both of my parents were fiercely independent people.  They needed no one.  It’s kind of surprising that at some point they needed to lean on each other.  Or perhaps they simply decided.  Like a social experiment.  But then they went through a literal war together.  Vietnam.  My dad did 2 tours.  Volunteered for the second tour.  My mother cared for the home and 4 children.  I am the oldest of those children.  So, I remember the most.  And it was to my recollection, mostly high tide.  Unemployment, PTSD, arguments, isolation. Bad to worse.  Separation turned to more isolation.  And what I learned.  For a long time.

Until one day I decided I wanted something different.  I wanted to belong to something.  I tried to find my siblings after years of estrangement.  But they were raised under that same structure. 

I felt so much anxiety when I started the journey.  “Contents inside tends to shift when under pressure.”  This is what a stewardess said to me the first time I took the trip to see my family in Michigan. She was giving me a waring about the luggage in the overhead bin.  I took it in as affirmation of what was going on inside my body.  It was a metaphor about my first days with family I had not seen in 30 years.  But each year I kept at it.  And my cousins gracefully met me in this uncertain space.  They had no idea how much I had to turn away from to turn toward them.  5 years in now.  The high is finally coming in.