Family

My oldest brother, Jonathan, has been in town this week.

The last time we were together, Zoe was pretty afraid of him, which I think broke my heart, and Jonathan's, just a little. Jon and I were super-close growing up, and even though he's six years older than me, by the time I was a teenager he sort of took me everywhere with him...including to Woodstock. He also was always a magnet for little girls (not in a sketchy, dirty way, I promise)...our little cousin Alissa adored him. Friends' little sisters loved him.

So I always assumed, even though he lives halfway across the country in Oklahoma, that my little girl would pretty much worship him. I did, you know?

Hence, I was a little sad that they didn't have that dynamic last August when we were in Tulsa for Jon's wedding.

But this visit...holy cow, there it is!!! She LOVES him! We talked up his visit ahead of time, and on the first night, within about 30 minutes, she was hugging and kissing on him, singing "Happy Birthday" and playing. That night, she insisted he take her up to bed. Every time we've seen him since, it's been the same. She's happy to see him, hugs and kisses him, and tonight I watched him playing guitar while she played piano, and I saw that adoration in her eyes.

And I am SO FREAKING HAPPY about this little fact. Family is important, and mine is scattered around the world right now, so every little piece that pulls us closer together is amazing. And so I will treasure the memory of Jonathan carrying Zoe to bed Monday night...at least until the next time we see him and we make new memories.

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With family being so important, what do you do when family members aren't here anymore for a young child to meet? I've struggled with that since Zoe's birth. Charles's father passed away long before I even met Charles, and neither of us has any grandparents left. How to explain who Grandaddy Chuck is? Or my Nana? Or Charles's Granny and Poppa? These were super-important people in our lives, and helped to create us, and therefore Zoe.

Apparently, I don't need to worry.

Zoe tends to ask Charles to tell her stories during our time in the car together every day. It's great, because we have a long commute to and from school/work. She used to ask for Curious George stories, then after a day when Charles told her a story about getting hurt as a kid, she started asking for "Daddy getting hurt" stories.

And then recently, he mentioned Poppa in a story, and now all she wants are Poppa stories. So Charles is having a great time (I think?) telling her stories about fishing and shrimping, learning to drive on an old farm where Poppa used to take him, and so on and so forth.

I guess so much of our heritage is still in the stories we love and share. As Zoe gets older, she'll learn more about Grandaddy Chuck flying helicopters in Vietnam. She'll learn about my Nana going out on dates which took her all over Manhattan at all hours of the night. She'll hear about Granny's cooking and even more about fishing with Poppa.

Basically, even though she won't have met them, she'll know them. And that's what matters.

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Finally, a ghost story for you.

My father's brother, George, died when George was 12 and Dad was 6. It's a tragic story - he drowned, and could have easily been rescued by a local fisherman.

This was up in New Jersey. All my life up there, Dad always told me stories of how George continued to visit him even after his death, which always simultaneously freaked me out and made me happy. It's nice to think of Dad's big brother still keeping an eye on him, you know?

But I always figured the stories ended when my parents followed me to South Carolina. Do ghosts travel, after all? I doubted it.

Not so much, though.

So, a long time ago, Dad lost a pocketknife in our old house. He searched up and down and all around, and the knife never showed up. Until years later, that is, when Dad pulled up a carpet in (I think) my bedroom, and the knife was in the center of the room, under the carpet. Weird, right?

Here's weirder...apparently Dad has already been pretty convinced that there's something going on in his current house, and when he told Mom recently about a light turning on by itself, she said, jokingly, "Oh, I guess George finally found you again."

Ha ha, right?

Hmm...

Dad has a dresser drawer in which he keeps t-shirts and a small box holding his collection of pocketknives. One of those knives, which has been shoved in the way back of the box, was George's old Boy Scout knife.

Shortly after Mom's comment, Dad opened his drawer to find, front and center, George's Boy Scout knife.

FREAKY! And still...sort of nice, right?