Sibs

We spent last weekend in beautiful Panguitch Lake. Somehow when I said "beautiful Panguitch Lake" before I went there, I forgot how really lovely it is. Maybe that's because the last time I went there my kids were too little to be much fun and it was also mosquito season.

Anyway, it was stunning -- a gorgeous little lake tucked in the mountains near Cedar Breaks, perfect for throwing rocks and sticks into. (Remember, my boys are 5 and 7.) Another day would have done us a whole lotta good, but yesterday the first day of school for my kids and we had to hurry home.

Five of the six kids from my family of origin were there. We missed my brother who is in Seattle for the summer, re-establishing his roots and relationships after living and working in New York for most of the year. We didn't have a lot of time together, but we had a little, and it was reassuring.

Because lately I have been worried. Considering how close we were as children -- we moved around the country and had no one but each other -- we don't communicate all that much as adults.

My five sibs and I are all over the map geographically. California, Las Vegas, Utah, New York. That's one thing that certainly makes it harder to be close.

We also live pretty far apart in ideals and identity. Mormon, ex-Mormon, gay, straight. Sometimes I worry that those differences -- differences that may never change -- are what keep us distant from each other. I think that if we are not committed to each other as a family, they easily could.

But we're also busy people. We have schoolwork and/or jobs (all of us, thank heaven) and kids (some of us) and even hobbies (mostly those of us without kids). These roadblocks are ephemeral. When we all land in a tiny cabin in the mountains of Southern Utah without TV, computers or cell phones, they magically become unimportant. We have a lot to talk about. We respect each other pretty well. We're pretty patient with each other. (Sorry about my nasty Sunday morning mood, guys!)

My youngest brother was born when I was in sixth grade. He was the most beautiful baby, with creamy fair skin and dark hair and eyes. I loved him with abandon and sometimes felt like I could envision the handsome guy he would grow up to be. At almost 21, he has outgrown his teenage attitude and insecurity and worked admirably hard to get in shape physically. I know the change isn't really so sudden, but to me it's all at once that he's a delightful and darn fine-looking guy. Seeing him this past weekend I had a sense of love remembered and vision fulfilled.

I think we're never going to really have easy waters to navigate as a family. I will confess that I am sometimes jealous of others who seem to have that. But I am encouraged, believing a little more now that we are a determined and decent crew that can make it around the rocks.