Dear Diary,
This is so stupid.  Why do I feel the need to fulfill the wishes of some long departed ancestor?  I realize that my family comes from a long line of dreamers, but I am not one of them.  However, I did make a promise, and I am nothing if not honorable.  I'll go way back to the beginning, to explain why I am so different from the rest of my family.  My name is Sage Howle, and I was born to a crazy hippie family.  My aunt Mint is actually my birth mother, she had a breakdown shortly after my birth and thankfully she gave me up for adoption.  My father, Tandoori is her only brother, and he couldn't bear to see me be sent to live with strangers.  I probably would have been better off, in my opinion, but such is life. 



Tandoori was fresh out of college and not really stable enough to pass the rigorous adoption process, so he moved back home with his parents, Chance and Nutmeg, my grandparents.  Shortly after he proposed to his college sweetheart, Esther,  and a wedding soon followed, I'm told.









Although Esther loved me in her own way, she wasn't very maternal, that was obvious right from the start.



I'm told my great grandmother, the matriarch of our family, Tara was a great help in those busy days of working and trying to raise a family.  My birth mother, Mint moved back home as well, to recover from her mental incapacities, thus there were four Howle generations under one roof, unheard of in most hippie communes.



Soon after their wedding my parents realized they weren't completely fulfilled with just one child, and they headed off on a short honeymoon in an attempt to get their family growing right away.






I have to admit, my life had it's happy moments.  Shortly after I reached school age the commune was raided by The Law and my family relocated to an apartment closer to the city.  Mint came with us for a short while, but she was more like an older, irresponsible sister than any kind of mother figure to me.



I tried to just be a normal child, I so badly wanted to fit in, but I didn't.  Not anywhere.  I was a stranger in my own home, an outcast, and a painful memory to boot.  I certainly didn't fit in with the other children in my building, not with home sewn clothing, all organic food and an overall strange family like mine.



Esther had twins, my sister Saffron was cute as a bug, but she was more like the others in the family, she fit in even at her young age, making me feel more ostracized than ever.



Now her twin, Fennel, he was weird, even for our family.  But not in the same kind of way I was.  He some how adapted and fit in, unlike myself.



My great-grandparents, Tara and Greg were the only ones I felt comfortable with, they were very open, and didn't care that I was different.  Tara was often encouraging me to be less serious, to no avail.  I couldn't help it.  I always seemed to carry the world on my shoulders.  Someone had to in this family, after all.



Death came and took them both one right after the other, which I guess is what they would have wanted, if they had to go at all.  It would have killed me to see one mourn for too long for the other. 



I never let anyone know how much it bothered me, how much it hurt.  Why would I?  What good does sharing your pain do, but to give more pain to others?  I've never understood that about  people.



Anyway, life went on.  My family aged, Gramma Nutmeg got old...



As did Grampa Chance.



Mint tried to be domestic, helping with the kids, preparing meals.



She just wasn't very good at it, and she knew it.  I think it tore her up inside.



She started talking about money, how important it was, that it was better than love.  She finally snagged herself a rich man too, or so she thought.



She moved out of our apartment and gave up all her belongings, she wanted a fresh start, she said. She still dressed like a crazy hippie though, you can take the girl out of the commune...



The funny thing was, her "Mr. Big" as she called him, wasn't as rich as he had told her.  Oh, he was, once, but had lost all of his investments in the recession, and was now living in a rundown trailer park on the other side of the tracks.I've been told my great grandfather Greg was from that same seedy area, but he never spoke of it, so who knows?



But what do you know, Mint found true love after all, with her Not So Mr. Big, Chase Toyonaga.  They're actually pretty happy there, and they're living like we did back at the commune, growing their own food in the community garden,  and sharing everything with their neighbors.  They even sleep in a tent!



So, like I said, time goes on, and everybody gets older, including myself.  I tried to relax a little as a teen, but I really didn't have it in me.



And when a beautiful older woman from our building hit on me in the hot tub one night, I told her I was jailbait and that she should leave me alone.  Sigh.



I thought maybe college would loosen me up, but if anything it made me more studious and money minded than ever.



As soon as they were able, my brother Fennel and sister Saffron joined me at college.  I think our parents were just looking to get the house quiet for a while, God knows our home has been filled with music and people for years.  Unlike myself, Fennel fit right in, in his dorky way.




He quickly made friends with all the kids in our dorm.





And Saffron made a few "friends" there as well.



My cousin Chili ended up coming with us too.  Her parents are my great uncle Cumin and my great aunt Chase.  Yeah, it's complicated.  She's a little weird, like our family back home, but somehow in college that made her fit right in too. 



I did manage to meet one person worth noting during my long, boring years away from home.  Meadow Thayer and I had been acquaintances since I was a child, but we hit it off right away and fell in love.
 


I had undergone plastic surgery by this time, and no longer looked like the long line of Howle men, but Meadow said she loved me before, too.  For a while I was a freak show, but thankfully I found a more reputable surgeon and he fixed me right up.






We got married in a small ceremony at her family's vacation home, by the water's edge, at night.  Meadow said it was very romantic, I was just glad she showed up.




My parents, Tandoori and Esther made the trip for the ceremony, even if Esther didn't bother to dress up for it. Atleast she knew better than to stay out of the water.  Sometimes I'd swear he was raised by animals instead of people!



Meadow looked so thoughtful, and melancholy.  I wasn't joking when I said I was worried she wouldn't show up.  I know she loves me, but I also know she needs some laughter and warmth in her life, and I'm not very good at giving her those.



But I obviously managed to do something right, because she got pregnant right away.  She loved being pregnant, enjoyed every single minute of it.  It was a joy just watching her.



My grandfather Chance was thrilled too.  He had recently retired and had too much time on his hands.  A new grandchild, or two, would be just what he needed.



And he and Nutmeg were still as in love as ever.  If I hoped to gain anything from this unconventional family of mine it would be that.  Their huge ability to love.  So far, however, it has alluded me.



Not that I don't love, of course.  I mourned when Nutmeg passed, just like everyone else.  But never in front of anyone.  I never let anyone see I hurt at all.



I wanted to comfort Grampa Chance when his beloved wife passed away, but I just didn't know how.  It was all too foreign to me.  Perhaps I have something missing in me, that others just seem to have in abundance.




The depth of his pain was obvious, it really was hard to watch.



He didn't have long to mourn before Death took him from me too.  I never did tell him how much I care.  I can only hope he knew.




My uncle Cumin mourned his parents in a loud, dramatic way.  I almost wished I could be like him,  but I was also embarassed for him to behave like that in front of others.  I don't even behave that way when I'm alone, for goodness' sake.



It seems maybe I got my mean streak from my great grandmother Tara, after all!  Her hauntings didn't last  long though, one day their headstones just disappeared.  No one knows what happened, but my great Aunt Chase is looking into the supernatural aspects of it.  I can't imagine she'll find anything out, but like I said before, there's no reasoning with this family.



It seemed Death was going to stop in and stay a while.  Our family had felt there was a dark cloud hovering over us for some time, but thankfully that didn't last much longer.


 
My dear wife Meadow gave birth to our first born, a beautiful girl named Poppy.  It seemed everyone was there for the birth, Meadow refused to go to the hospital, she wanted to welcome the fifth generation of the family the way all the others had before her, at home.



Even though I quite often felt detached from my very own flesh and blood family, I realized the improtance of carrying on the generations through the years.  Tandoori was a great father, after all.  My cold heart and aloof behavior weren't his fault.  I actually enjoyed watching him with my daughter, his very first grandchild.



And even though I really wanted to, I couldn't keep her a baby forever. 



Poppy may turn out to look just like I did before my surgery, who knows?  It's too early to tell yet.



Although she's changing every day, as she reminds me often.  Poppy worries me, she's too much like the people who have helped raise her, and not enough like me.  Surely there has to be a middle ground somewhere between wild and unassuming and stodgy and indifferent?  I am working my hardest to help her discover who she really is.  I want her to be happy, just not completely careless and carefree, as the women in our family have been for many years.



Thankfully, I have some male heirs now, as well!  Although I was shocked to see just how different twins could be.  Mace is outgoing and nice, a rarity in our family since, well, ever.



And Cilantro, well, he's extremely introverted and mean, and unfortunately  very playful as well.  That one's going to be a handful, I'm afraid! 

Phew, that wasn't so bad, after all!  When I was a child Tarragon often reminded me that if I couldn't speak something out loud, I was to write it down.  I'm hoping to someday let my family know how much I love them, even if it's after I'm gone and they find and read my journals.  I told her I would carefully chronicle my life for future generations, and I have done just that.  I will instill this concept in my children as well, and hope that atleast one of them keeps up the family tradition.

Sincerely,
Sage Howle
 

Current Mood: cranky