Dec 28 2008
There’s No Place Like Home
I just returned from a week’s stay at my parents house. We ate a lot and saw movies. I highly recommend The Curious Case of Benjamin Button - it was a beautiful and haunting movie. I am not sure what part inspired that one dude in Pennsylvania to shoot someone, but maybe the war scene really got him hopped up? (As an aside, I also saw Marley and Me - it was cute but a renter. Although, what do I know since it is the number one movie, but I guess that just shows I have different taste than the majority of America (read: I have taste)).
Anyway, so there was a part in the movie when Benjamin comes back to the house he grew up in after many years (don’t worry I am not giving anything away, except the shocking ending: he ages in reverse!!!!!!!!). He said when he came home (something like) “the thing about coming home is that everything is the same, except for you.”
See, in my case, unlike Benajmin’s curious one, I am not sure if everything is the same, except me. In fact, I settled pretty easily back into my habits as a 17 year old. My house, on the other hand, is completely different. My mom is on the third remodel of our house. My childhood bedroom is now my dad’s office. My oldest sister’s room, where I would stay during college visits, has been modified to remove all of my old stuff in place of judaica (my mom has rediscovered hashem). And, to add insult to injury, there are no pictures of me except for the the baby pictures and senior high school glamour shot (you know - the picture with head on hands) that have been in frames for years. My oldest sister, however - the one we call “the chosen one” is everywhere you turn. Most of the photos are from her recent wedding. It is as if my parents had a child who died in high school (me) and so they put all their energy into their other child (oh I have another sister, but my parents are luke warm on her).
When I asked my parents what was the deal with the photo discrepancy, my mom responded, “oh Fat Spinsta, there is a picture of you in one of your sister’s wedding photos. See that is you in the back with your eyes closed, looking demonic.” Hmm, mom. After all these years of knowing my mother, I have learned to read between the lines. My mom is really saying, “Fat Spinsta, get married and we will have wedding pictures to display!”
As you can imagine, as I sit in my apartment in Chicago - a one hour flight or 5 hour drive away from my parents, I can’t help but think - there is no place like home.
Hope you all had a nice holiday. And, have no fear, the Spinsta is BACK.
