#175 ~ Home Sour Home

We like to paint an idyllic scene of family life. Mother is in the kitchen, father in the garden, the children are in their rooms building imaginary castles. A combination of umbilical cords, heart-strings and wedding rings bind the family together into a cohesive unit of wholesomeness. A sweetness, like the nectar that drips from Keat’s tautologically over-ripe flowers, drools it’s sucrose body over the tantalising image of family.

Yet family, the idea of strangers who may even share genetically different blood types, living together due to a fusion of a nucleic acid called DNA, is not a sweet, saccharine infused construct. It is sour, bitter, tangy, zesty, repugnant and sensual. It elicits a range of responses that, in the moment, may seem wholesome and appetising, just as teeth do when they graze into a lemon curd pie, yet as it slips down the back of the throat, twists the lips into a pleasant grimace. Family evokes a response. The frictions that rail at the boarders, within the heart, over the dinner table, are the same frictions that define the overarching presence of unity, one-ness. A wise man once said, “the members of one’s own household are their greatest enemy’; yet, they are also their greatest friends, lovers, protectors.

Returning to the familial embrace, one does not rub up against the smooth, oil of Olay soaked skin of a Lothario, a debonair or even a baby’s bottom, but the weathered, grizzled jaw line of a Father, a menopausal mother, pubescent brother or even, hormonally imbalanced sister. The irritations, grazes, and frustrations however, are the most authentic kisses your cheeks will ever incur.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Let me hear your Voice

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: