So Different, So Similar

You might say I'm a mental health hobbiest. Especially if you found out I got Marty, Hank and Stella to go with me to the finest site in St. Joseph, Missouri: The Glore Psychiatric Museum. We went while we were in town for Lily's wedding.

Yes, it's an actual museum that holds historical equipment and devices and furniture and torture objects that we used to "treat lunatics" back in the day it was called the "State Lunatic Asylum No. 2", just a few years before my mom had her first encounter with mental heath electro shock "treatments". The museum was fascinating.

I was telling my mom all about it as we both sat on the glider on Walt's patio, swinging and drinking lemonade.

It was the evening after Lily's wedding and we were all gathering at Walt's house because even though it was late we all still wanted to hang out together.

All of us but Lily and her new husband who were already on their honeymoon. And Keith, who had to go home and take some back pain medicine and lie down, but they took separate cars so Hazel could come right over.

So it was Mom, (Frank wasn't feeling well so he stayed home,) Walt, Adrienne, Marty, Dan, Hazel, Hank, Stella and Me -- and even Cally and her daughter and her son Chis. I was so happy they were there. It was the first time we had all been together since Murray's death.

It was muggy. We all had damp foreheads and frizzy hair. Mom comented that Stella's hair was curling up so much she could put on a Shirley Temple costume and started singing "Oh the Good Ship Lolipop".

I kept trying to tell Mom about the Glore Museum. She would half listen for a minute and then bring up something else. I finally droped it since she obviously didn't want to hear any more.

We talked mostly about Stella after that. It's our favorite subject when we get together. It was still muggy but there was a faint breeze blowing across our sweaty necks.

Everyone else had gone inside, but Mom and I were enjoying the patio too much. Neighter of us were big fans of air-conditioning. Both of us dreamed of living in an old stone arts and crafts style house with a big screened in porch, and yet neither of us do. Not yet.

We had pretty much exhausted our agreement that Stella is the most amazing child on the planet, so we sat there quietly for about thirty seconds, just enjoying the breeze and the twilight.

Then Mom asked me, "Sydney, why do you think you're so interested in psychology and all that mental wellness stuff?"

I just smiled, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the breeze. Mindfulness. Sensations. Nonjudgment. I began twirling my hair, something Stella has done since she had hair and something I just noticed I've taken up lately. Self-soothing.

Mom asked again, a little louder, like she honestly thought I hadn't heard her. "You've always been interested in yours and other's mental health. Why do you think that is?" She had a slight edge in her tone I wasn't used to.

"I dunno. I guess because a lot of people in our family have mental health issues." I spoke slowly, choosing every word carefully.

Mom swung a little higher on the glider, kicking her left leg. "You mean like Mother Ruthanne and your dad?"

"Yeah. And all of us, really." I looked inside the lit door.

"You know both those nights I just took one pill. One Valium. And had a couple of beers. And Walter was cheating--"

I put my feet down on the ground so the glider stopped moving. "I know. I know. You don't have to explain. No one is judging you. I just like to understand why people work the way they do. I handle stress by digging into it further to find the root and pulling it. You handle stress differently. That's all. I love you, Mom."

"I handle stress by walking past the garden and going to Barbosa's." We both kicked our head back and laughed at the exact same moment, the same tone and pitch. Two people so different, so similar.