“Family reunion.” Most people have a reaction to the phrase, good or bad. For us, it is very good. Every other year my five siblings and I—the Janssen clan—gather from the East coast and the Midwest for several days of catching up and simply enjoying each other’s company. We make connections from time to time in between, but this is our traditional touch point, highly anticipated and treated as sacred.
This year we met in Hendersonville, North Carolina, where we enjoyed southern food, the farmer’s market, hiking, and of course Biltmore. It was our biggest shindig yet, with 28 present at one point, three generations playing games, swapping stories, laughing and crying, and comparing symptoms of growing older. It was glorious. Two poems came from it, the first about the resident dog, and the second upon reflection a few weeks later. I hope you enjoy them, and even more, I wish you the kind of love we share—have shared—through thick and thin, all these years.
Reunion 2018
Chester was skittish at first.
All these strangers,
too many smells
invading the comfort
of the home he has come to know
as safe, with human caretakers
letting love do its slow work.
He feels himself returning
to his earnest self
curious, tentative master
of his doable domain
couch, floor, grass,
ground-level patrol
providing a purpose.
He resigned himself to
the presence of these strangers
while the mothers reassured,
holding his questions safe,
their hands lowering the same dish,
saying his name again like
the comforting refrain
he learned that first day.
These strangers
seem to hold one another
in the same way,
allowing each other
enough space to be
their true selves,
reassuring one another
with the same mellow refrain
as always.
Their laughter is life.
Their tears caress and heal.
Chester knows:
these humans are safe.
The Why
At the turn of the year—
every even-numbered one—
we begin to feel the pull
of the family reunion.
The hows and whens and wheres
are passed back and forth
weighed, tested, settled.
The why is left unsaid,
unquestioned, assumed
bearing its own shape and heft
exerting its gravitational force
stronger, steadier
as the biennial circuit turns,
and the dream promises
to materialize
again.
It draws us
on our pilgrimages
to the convergence,
the day when
two and
one and
four and another
appear,
happily helpless against
the fierce
soft attraction,
careless in the wild explosion of
recognition
re-union
re-vival.
It settles and breathes
holds
listens
calls the dance of
memory and mourning and
bears witness to what
it keeps creating.
Into each ear it whispers
of wonder and resilience,
of time’s sweet endowments
and healing
as it reclines underneath the stories,
the shared history remembered six ways,
lazily tracing lines
of inevitable, invisible connection
on our skin.
And then
it offers its benediction as
it colors each embrace
for vivid remembrance,
claims its authority
in each gaze.
Lingers in the air,
in the blood as
each one turns away
released into its larger
orbit, until
next time.
Brought tears to the eyes of this soft-hearted old codger.
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Well said, Deb. You articulated the experience perfectly for me. A ping in my heart and a tear in my eyes.
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Both made me smile and made me nod in agreement as I thought of our own family reunions!
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Yes, I’m sure you did. You are equally blessed!
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Deb, I just read this again today, 12/27/19, tears rolling down my face. As 2020 inches closer, my heart is longing for our next “re-union, next re-vival.”
I remember going to one of Mom’s “sibling reunions”, and Dad’s Memorial Day Snuttjer family reunions, the Rozendaal reunions, another grand bequest from our parents and grandparents.
All the love passed down from generation to generation.
Thank you for this, and all your other blogs. They touch me deeply.
Love, Lois
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