My grand’rents were in town this past weekend, just in time for my show.
My time with my mother’s parents has been far between, their interests being sometimes mobile, and nearly always states away, at least. When i was younger, I would see them for a week– or so, at a time, maybe once a year. It has logrithmically dropped as I’ve entered adulthood, with all the responsibility and demand that comes with such a transition.
Anyway, I was very quiet as a Kid. And a teenager. Only in the past 2 years have i developed what my father describes as a voice befiting a boatswain. And then, only in character, much of the time.
Point is, for all my idealistic zeal for Christianity, I realized that my grandparents must have very little idea of that. I suspect that information to such an effect would not flow freely between certain elements of my extended family, if people even cared to speak on it.
I remembered a few years ago, my grandmother asked me, with a sullen look on her face, a very round about question about the nature of my belief in God. I simply said, ‘yes’, in a way which, in hindsight, was probably easily dismissed as parrotting or passive acceptance. Perhaps that was enough for ease, even, to some degree.
I availed myself of the recent opportunity.
Through the course of the half day that I had in their presence, I spoke with my grandmother, offering first the knowledge of my vow to not kiss until marriage, and following this into my personal beliefs about the importance of marriage, and being unabashed about my statements on sexuality, on its sanctity, and absolute necessity for me and my peers, and the deep pangs associated with my inability to explore it morally in the context of a marriage.
She was perhaps a little overwhelmed, but relieved I think. Perhaps she would not ask before because she was afraid that she would hear the typical sidestepping drivel that my peers throw at authority figures on the subject. Perhaps it was too taboo for her. But, I put it out there for her to see.
After the half day of reflection on my recent stage performance, said philosophical discussions, and review of my videography work, I prepared to leave for other enagements, she hugged me, and said, “Keep up the good work.”
I wasn’t sure which she meant. Perhaps she meant my pursuit of financial stability and independence; it seemed likely.
She paused a long time, searching for a word.
“Attitudes” was the one she settled on.
I nodded. And left.