Thomas Wolfe said, “You can’t go home again.” This posthumous title referred to his belief that you cannot recover the past. My little sister, Flea Fly, is finding that out now more than ever. She is purchasing and moving into her first home this weekend. While I am proud of her in all the ways an older married sister can be proud of her younger single mother sister, I am worried about her at the same time. She is purchasing the home from my parents. Yes, Sybil and Sanford own a second home and are selling it to her for a bargain, but I cannot help but wonder at what cost she will pay. The house is located a mere five houses up the road from the ‘rents home on the same street we grew up on and could hardly wait to move away from as soon as we could.
Sybil has no concept of boundaries. That is how I ended up in Las Vegas. Even at 25 years old, I was exhausted with her meddling and refusal to cut the cord. She will need to be told time and time again that it is not her house, that she should call before coming over, and that my nephew “Bullhead” is not her son. Flea Fly is in for a battle with our psycho hose beast mother. She will be changing the locks before the week is over, mark my words. I just sit back and think about the blog fodder that is soon to come, and I get a shit eating grin on my face. And, trust me, you will too when I report the adventures with Sybil and Sanford.
I sent the above image to my little sister this morning to remind her that they are her ‘rents despite the horror that is inevitably five houses away. Flea Fly, you have gone home again. I suppose the real question is: Can you live down the street from Sybil and Sanford without nuclear fallout? Only time will tell.
Three words for FF: barbed wire fencing.
seriously though, I hope this is a step to mending some of the wounds…. Time will tell.
My Mother’s Mother was a domineering, bossy woman. My mother was so happy to get out from under her thumb when she married and moved away. Unfortunately, she ended up divorced, with 3 kids, and unable to support herself. (my mother is a blog unto herself). So, she had no choice but to move home. My generous grandfather helped us out by putting a roof over our heads. My grandmother told my mother what plants she had to have, etc. She even came over to our house and planted a tomato garden. She drove my mom nuts, popping in unannounced all the time! My mom spent 2 decades on edge and under stress, until my grandmother could no longer drive over.
It will take a lot of tough love, but if FF is as strong as her sis, she will make a happy life for her and her family.
It took me roughly two years to get my mom to call before she came over. That we had to “make plans” and that she couldn’t just drop in or call me from a block away.
Sometimes she remembers. Other times I drink.
I hope things work out. I was worried about the same thing when we moved so close to my folks and Homer’s folks. Fortunately, independence is strongly valued in my family, so we don’t get the unwelcome intrusions that most people get when living so close to family. I think Homer’s folks would like more contact, but it’s been hard to be “on demand” since Boo and Doodle showed up.
I am back at home at the moment and am about one more meddling moment away from being on the news with a machete in my hand.
Oh, so very good luck to your sis!
Oy vey. I wish her much, much luck. She must lay down the law, methinks, and show her name on the contract she signed for the house regularly.
Or, she could do a Lucinda Williams:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=71YAlG_uMgU&feature=related
Big security system. She needs one. Also, a large dog who loves to hump people. Unless Sybil is into that sort of thing. Then you need and even bigger security system.
My pact with the devil mother gave my little sister the down payment to their home. I thought my little sister had some sense, but her eyes are on the dollar signs. She even lets her children hang out with the devil incarnate and our schizophrenic sister. Why?
Money, money, money money…. money…
Anyway, this is my way of saying that our sibling can have very different values than we have. There’s no way for you to know or understand what your sister gets from her relationship with your parents.
At least that’s what I tell myself….
Mr. Chili is still amazed that we live where we live (a short five-minute drive from his parents). He’s the only one of the four kids to even live in the frickin’ time zone, and here we are, five minutes away. Luckily, though, those five minutes are far enough… most of the time.
Aren’t you glad it’s not YOU?