Over the weekend I had some family come into town for my second cousins wedding. Included in the hullabaloo was my mom, two aunts I hadn't seen in at least 9 years, their daughters and THEIR kids, all from Texas. Taking photographs for this wedding was much like taking snapshots at a rodeo, except all the country folk were wearing button up shirts and trying not to cuss in church. It makes me think of trying to put a monocle and coat on a porcupine.
These visitors all played major roles in my childhood and it was very eerie to see them reconvene after all these years. We all went over to an aunt's house on Sunday afternoon; the adults were in their own circle in the living room, and one of my cousins and I were sitting on an askew couch, observing a twisted flashback. A flashback where all the young druggies were now old druggies. Instead of talking about doping, they were instead talking about their health problems caused by the reckless youth and young adulthood. It was almost as though they never were apart. The room was hazy with their chain smoking and my lungs burned. Voices that I once knew jabbered about how their kids had been taken away and of other 'injustices' done to them in their using days.
Except those voices that were once fresh and authoritative are now rusty and they've lost all their power. It's a strange thing growing up and watching yourself surpass those that seemed so big once. I hope as I age that I can continue to look back, rather than just look around, wasting away in the same old space.