old movies.

my father and his family took me out for my 27th birthday on new year's day. surprised myself this year by not making any resolutions at all. most likely this is due to the fact that i have too many to pick. but i digress.

after dinner, my grandmother (more mother to me, really) said she had some old home movies and that we (my father, his sister, and my cousin) should watch one. i found one labeled with my fourth birthday on it. a 23-year-old moment in time frozen in a celluloid web, which i had no idea existed until now.

and how i wish i could put into words all the feelings that occurred as i watched it. it's going to have to remain free form, because there are too many, and no way to prioritize, organize, or otherwise sort through them.

my grandparents -- all four of them, in one room. my mother's mother, and the fact that i did not recognize her because it was in the years before my first memory of her - lying in a hospital bed from the stroke and the cancer that would eventually lead to her death. they were all there. in one place, at one time. they collectively missed so many moments of my life. the bat mitzvah. the graduations. that recital where i finally got to sing with a full orchestra. all those meaningless little achievements up until now.

my mother -- so young. it was hard to even listen to her voice. so young. so pretty. with acne, just like me. but even with the joy around her, i could see in the video a moment where she was outcasting herself. removing herself. at her core, uncomfortable.

my father -- also so young. excited new father. his two year old son roaming around from grandpa's legs, to his aunt's lap, to his sister's room, babbling baby talk all the way. my father, so blissfully unaware of the marital heartbreak he would suffer.

seeing my parents, in one room, conversing, loving, acting like a unit instead of adversaries... the promise of the future and the young children they were raising in that crappy little garden apartment in suburbia.

and there i was - beautiful. running around in a tutu. doing plies. showing off. playing with my cousin, who i barely talk to now.

was it real? did it actually happen? that big family was in one room, at one time, without fighting? it seemed like someone else's life on that tv screen. but i still squealed to see my childhood bedroom, and felt the flood of memories for that little blue table with the playskool chairs, the ugly shag mudyellow carpet, the ancient mac computer on my mother's work desk... i don't remember many moments of my childhood. and that video is the antithesis of what i can remember.

and how i wish... how i wish that someday i can have that kind of family again. one that i will build. one that i will cherish and love. someday, i wish, someone will fall in love with me, and help me find the beautiful little tutu-wearing kid i used to be, and teach me how to trust and love again.

(i want that mommy back. but i can't. we can't ever go back to that.)