I’m not sure what to write - this is so personal
I’m with my family. My parents and my brother with his family. Mozzie is with me. We are currently in Strathmere, New Jersey. The beach house we are staying in is a connection through a connection through a connection. A weekend gift to my parents from the owners. This is my first time traveling since 2021. It is good to put Harrisburg behind me for a couple of days, Mozzie and I will be here all day tomorrow, returning late Sunday night.
Something I am struggling with in my head at the moment is, well, I don’t really know what. I never really felt an “identity” as a son or even as a brother. Maybe we are fiercely individual as a family? But then I was married and created an identity as a husband and son-in-law. Even prior to getting married, when we were dating I established my identity with her, with Lindsay. First as Lindsay’s boyfriend, then fiancé, then husband. My past didn’t exist, she was my present and future, all I knew, my history.
And then that identity was taken from me. All paperwork at this point, I have it in some folder somewhere. She sued him for divorce and so it shall be. Etc. etc. etc.
When I am with Lindsay and Mozzie I feel familiar. They know all of me, the good and the bad. I am mostly me when I am with them. But ultimately shit hit the fan here.
When I am with my family (my parents, my brother) I feel like a stranger, but surely my parents at least know me better than that. My brother, 2 years younger than me, seems to have the better relationship with my parents. Maybe that time together with me out of the house bonded them more closely? Who knows. It is hard for me to figure out exactly how I feel here, how it seems, how it is. I am here but I am not.
With some people, in some circumstances, I feel known. In others, is it me not knowing or is it them?
Some days I feel a sense of connection with Mozzie. Other days, other precise moments in time (like tonight when I was tucking him into bed), I feel...nothing. But I want to feel everything. He is my son. I think he can sense when I am like this. I am irritable.
I made a bag today. A leather bag, a beautiful bag. I’m calling it “The Strathmere” because this trip is why I made it. That and I’ve wanted to make a bag like it for a very long time. A bag that can travel. It is the perfect weekend bag. I am going to list it for sale, made to order, using the formula that should be used for everything I make and sell: ((material + time)2)2. I need my business to be priced like a business and not a hobby, it hasn’t been a hobby for a very long time. This is how I live. This is how I eat (+ Lindsay & Mozzie. Full transparency here).
My brain is such that I don’t really remember the making of this bag. I
know I made it. I know I went through the motions to draw it out on
paper, to engineer it as I made it, to actually do the work,
but I also don’t remember any of it. I’m not even sure if I ate. I
did get Chinese takeout last night, so I at least know I had that. And
eggs today, at noon.
It sounds like everyone is sleeping soundly right now. It is 12:33am as I write these words. All of the kids seem to be sleeping well. My parents aren’t coughing. My brother and his wife are sleeping with fingers and legs crossed for an uninterrupted night of rest. I’m just going to be happy to sleep in a space where the cool air won’t switch over to hot air randomly. I’ll head to bed soon.
Feeling as though I am on the edge of something. Of what exactly I am not sure.
To the weekend. In Strathmere. At the beach. A child has started to scream awake...and then back to sleep...is that me, or them?
~ Aaron