Family, Friends, and the Nest

Family can be a tricky thing.

On the one hand, they're a part of you. Their blood is mine. Getting together at Christmas (or funerals) has a familiar intimacy. Unlike most, my family's political leanings are all the same. Wasn''t always true. But we got rid of the dissidents. And there are some really bright, witty folks, so the discussions always are a hoot.

But you notice I said I see them only at Christmas. Too much of a good thing, no? Family in conflict is worse than a train wreck. And more deadly.

There are the ones I'm particularly fond of--a great-aunt who painted her kitchen at 85. To be fair, she painted it because she forgot something on the stove and scorched the wall and ceiling. Still. When's the last time you painted YOUR kitchen? She also bought herself a John Deere lawn mower and keeps four acres cut each summer. Hardy stock.

I also have a cousin that I love. It's not that he followed in my educational and career footsteps (although he did). He's without question, the smartest, funniest, well-rounded, strong-in-the-face-of-genetic-shit person in our family. Oooh-ahhh.

And my brother who isn't but is. We saved each other through a difficult childhood and we have a connection deeper than blood. We know what horror looks like.

Then there are friends. Ever notice that as you get older, it's harder to differentiate friends and family? Friends are the ones who see you through day in and day out. Who run errands for you when you're under the weather. Who keep you in one piece in crisis--or hold you when you cry. Friends make you laugh out loud and, infrequently, snort liquid through your nose.

There is a special category for friends you don't see often, or even talk to much, but pick up as though you'd seen them the day before yesterday.

These friends all feel very rooted in your life. In the end, friends end up being family, sometimes more important than family of origin.

Gosh, this has become tangential.

So... In 1996, I found the sweetest little cabin in the Smoky Mountains of NC, available for seasonal renting. I've been almost every year since then, at least once.

Here are the best parts for me:

1. It's at the top of a mile long one lane gravel road at the tip-top (no pun intended) of a mountain. As the sign on the driveway says, "If you ain't invited, you ain't invited."

2. It has a deck that juts into the trees themselves, like the bow of a boat plunging forward in the sea. If you love nature, it's heaven. Being on the deck is like being embraced by the trees. I once spoke to a honey bee and it heard me and responded. That was humbling. If you don't like nature, you should probably be at the casino in Cherokee, up the road.

3. Magic happens there. Reference conversation with honey bee above. Also deep restoration. Reconnection with your own essence. Creativity. If you are lucky enough to be with a lover, love happens cubed. If not, a deepening of friendship with others and even yourself.

4. The owner of this cabin, Tippy, has become my dear friend, even though we've only met once in person. She called me to come over to get a rat snake out of her wood pile. (I was staying somewhere else this particular visit.) It's not that I'm fond of snakes exactly, but I always respond to a another lesbian who has a deep fear of something that won't hurt you. True also of mice, spiders, and, ahem, palmetto bugs. I was unsuccessful at removing the small snake, by the way. So much for dyke power. But I got to meet Tippy and Kieran, who were gracious and funny and didn't make fun of my lesbian ineptitude.

5. The name of the cabin. Whoever came up with it was precient. Every spring and fall, I am reborn at Phoenix Nest.