Going to Mississippi
Tomorrow I get on a train from Atlanta to Mississippi. That’s right, not only do passenger trains still exist, but there are still people who ride them! Trips to Mississippi always make me a little edgy and uncomfortable, since I’ve never really felt any commonality with any of my family, and time away only heightens my awareness of our differences. Since I left Mississippi at 19, I’ve been back just a handful of times, probably not even enough to make a month of days.
I used to think that I dreaded (yes, dreaded) seeing the family because I am their antithesis. I don’t worship god, I don’t have any babies, I don’t mooch horrendously off of our wonderful mother. I felt that I didn’t really have anything to share with them, and as such we couldn’t really be of value to one another. But recently I’ve come to think differently…
You see, I have a fantastic relationship with my mother. She is the one person with whom I share blood that I believe understands me and truly enjoys my company, beyond the level of relative-relative, or even mother-child. I call her often, and she confides in me, and even asks my advice sometimes. But even after a few days with her, I know that I have to get away, and that I won’t feel myself until I do so. That is what makes me think that I’ve had it wrong, backwards even.
I don’t stay away from my family because I don’t value them. I stay away because I’ve learned that I actually really do value them, which leads me to feel completely helpless with them. My family is collapsing in on itself. Both of my siblings are single parents, take no initiative, have no ambition, and completely rely on the unfailing support of our mother to get by. And my mother lets them get away with every bit of it, knowing very well that she is only hurting herself and them in the process. Yet her identity is so enamored in her children, that she can’t bring herself to deny them.
When I visit I can only keep quiet for so long, and as soon as I open my mouth to offer suggestions or criticisms, my siblings turn a deaf ear. In the South, having a child immediately makes you an expert on children, education and morality, so I, a childless bachelor, cannot offer any advice without heating their blood and starting an argument. And I can’t claim to know what’s best for my niece and nephews, but I can clearly see what’s better.
So that is the internal conflict that I will battle over the weekend. Hooray!