tender

been thinking a lot this morning about a fateful race i ran back in the late 1950s, early '60s. an all-around athletic glutz, i believed heart & soul that my brand new pf flyers would turn my feet from lead to winged victors. when i fell totally beyond the rest of the runners, i scanned the sidelines for a familiar face & tore off the field, flinging myself into the startled arms of my older, high school senior brother.

in writing about it on another blog, it dawned on me how often i've repeated the first part of the situation throughout my life - great hopes based on great hype (often my own) but lacking the preparation & skill, the determination & follow-through to make a real go of whatever it was, from school assignments through pampered chef.

when i started writing down that particular special memory, it never dawned on me that it would lead me to consider how many times i failed to get what i'd set out to achieve because it somehow seemed that wanting it be so would make it, without focused thought or determined action on my part. all glitzy picture from architectural digest, no blueprints or contract or home site. the signs are everywhere, just didn't expect to see one in an ancient foot race.

the other thing that came home to me writing about that poignant race was how deeply i saw my brother as sanctuary, his arms my safe place to be. how strange that i've always experienced my sibs as safe people to be with, since it seems they've rarely felt that way about me. peter & kerry both literally told me that - they do not feel safe with me, therefore are forced, for their own good, to keep me at a safe distance.

look back at that ancient july 4th race, look at it from what could be mike's experience. what was sanctuary & comfort to me ~ my older brother ~ could be utter mortification to him: his sister, not merely the slowest racer on the field, took the unsportsmanlike action of leaving the field - not even honorably finishing the race - to dash into his arms in front of EVERYONE.

my late middle age self feels such a swelling of tender feelings for both of those young people. i am awed by the utter trust of a little girl that her older brother could hold her safe against humiliation AND i feel compassion for the high school senior faced with utter embarrassment by a sibling. to that little girl, he was safe; to him, she was... i don't know. but i can imagine.

he was seventeen, taken totally unaware. how do you think he felt?