I can't stand listening to cousins go on and on about their vacations. Seems like everyone has gone to, is coming back from or leaving for our homeland...well, our parents's homeland. My ancestors are my home, not the places they dwelled.
I'm glad one of my cousins has turned me down to have coffee at least, three times. Oh my, how we've grown apart. I love these people. But, they're not my people. I shouldn't feel like a black sheep. Though, what would be the harm in it, really?
I'm struck by their lack of depth. I thought once they had children of their own, they'd become wiser. It's just more of the same recycled matter. And on and on it goes...Their children inherit their shallowness, too.
I take after my mother who has more depth than she can travel to in this lifetime. She understands me. Maybe not fully...but, close enough. I get her, too. My mother - the dreamer, the poet.
The people I've met over the years who've lingered in my sphere and I, in theirs...I'd change none of it. They helped me keep an open mind. They allowed me to grow and develop into a human being. What happened to these other guys? Why are they so stupid? So ignorant? Sure, they're smart on this plane, live successfully according to the structures created by others...but, they offer nothing in the way of real compassion or understanding.
I say, "Bon Voyage."
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