Translating the Family Language

I stroll along the side of the road, eyes blinking in the strong sun.  The land falls away from us in lumpy imperfection.  Ahead of me my father, his girlfriend and my sister Emily walk single file through the dry grass.   The burn from the light meets the chill of the mountains and I feel balanced. 

We are walking along the road because we're not sure what else to do. The hotel we landed at turned out to be a hostel, full of strange, hiker-types talking geekery around a too-small table.  My dad's girlfriend finds it hilariously unbearable and drags us all out for a Mars bar, to be bought an hour's walk down the mountain road.

A monstrous truck assaults my senses.  As if its air-sucking presence were not enough, the driver feels the need to beep, as most drivers do.  My dad turns to look but I am acostumbrada. 

The language of the car horn over here has a subtlety and depth not normally found in the States or UK, used not simply as an auditory reminder of potential hazards but rather as a creative approach to conversation from within any particular sealed compartment on wheels.  On any given day it substitutes one or more of the following:

Hi there!

Goodbye!

You are in the way

You are sexy

You are fat

You are sexy for a fat girl

Hey guys, look!  Attractive woman passing

Oye! Muchacha, want a lift?

You are a gringo, go away

Watch out, cow on the road

Watch out, car backing up the lane ahead of us

Hombre, lights changed almost a second ago, vamonos!

Hombre, sorry I missed the light, I was changing my t-shirt

*insert further comment here. 

Today it seems to be nothing more than an acknowledgement of our family outing and it makes me smile as I cast my eyes over my clan.

As always, there are two sides, dual emotions to every event.  I was born into this group for a reason and there are karmas that must be played out.  Proximity to close relatives means one comes face to face with those habits that are so hard to overcome even alone - ingrained reactions intertwined with ego. 

We are content in our togetherness but as always the presence of family brings me right back into my conditioned self.  People, especially family, like to box each other by neatly-labeled criteria.  They are forever reminding you of who they think you are, and getting annoyed when you behave differently to what they expect.   They have known you all your life, so the natural inclination is to assume that you have been and always will be the same.

There is little realisation of the power of such assumption.  Despite my awareness, I feel myself doing it to others at the same time as they do it to me.  But there is no reason why I should not be constantly surprised by everyone. 

I am both surprised and unsurprised at myself.  Each companion draws out different behaviours within us - in this situation I see myself become defensive and opinionated, easily frustrated.  I see those parts of me that have changed and those parts that I would still like to change.  I see myself forgetting everything I want to be. 

 

But at the same time I feel strong. My past selves stack themselves in a line behind me, envisioned by my loved ones, and I feel I measure up against them well.  For, I realise, I am proud of myself. And they are proud of me too. No matter what expectations a family has, I am lucky enough to be part of a loving one, and while my wanderings may occasionally vex my father, I know he trusts me to follow my heart.

Another truck steamrollers over the silence, his horn piercing through our eardrums.  This time, the beep means, 'Check out the view!'  We stop in front of the falling hills to look, standing loosely.  Apart but nevertheless together.