Hereditary units.

These are interesting strands, aren’t they? Our DNA, if unravelled, would go to the moon.
I am convinced that my hereditary units were stranded, lost somewhere. Here’s why;
I have a nose bleed. It’s been going on for a couple of hours now. I’m not at all prone to this ailment. In fact, the only nosebleed I’ve ever incurred was while visiting the folks in arrid AZ some years ago. But my sister, Ffej, was often prone to nosebleeds as we were growing up. Especially during those long afternoons of torture. The ones when Jeff would make us box each other to entertain him and his friends. Ffej would inevitably end up with a bloody nose. My tears would always feel a million times sadder than the red cells that ran down her face. I never wanted to hurt my sister. But the stronger DNA or chromosome that was our brother won out every time. Me and Jeff were tight at one point in our life. Then it dissipated. He was 16. He was naked with girls, I was not. He found better entertainment that did not include his 11 year old sister. Sister Suzie was off doing her honor roll stuff, having friends and being Ffej. They left me in purgatory. I couldn’t fit my genes in anywhere. I called them Levi’s, my brother called them Lee’s. Probably sounds bizarre to you, reader. But my siblings opinions and attention meant my life to me. Meant my world to me. Until it left. Until I left.
Segue to present day. My sister, my angel, I cannot go two days without talking to. My brother, the eternal enigma, I cannot go two weeks without wondering…who is he now? What motivates him to get out of bed each day?
But get this…
Our parent’s, the aloof anti-Jeffists, are visiting him next week. What about a visit to Fl. or Mn. you ask? Ha.
Me and Ffej have spent thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours acquiescing to our parent’s wishes.
They’ve not been to see us in eons. But guess what? They’re off to see Jeff in Calgary. The mutinous brother. The nose bloodier. The gene pool pee-er. Fine by me. I’m filled with angst at the thought of my folks in Jax. A stress I care not to endure. But it hurts my sis, I think. Though she feigns to care.
Fuck genes. Genes are immaterial. Families are supposed to be the substance, the strands that really bind. Not so, as would seem apparent in the life of me.
I’ll happily wade about in the shallow end of my own cess pool. It’s way more real and reciprocal.
And, I suspect me and Ffej know the true score. We understand and feel love. A gift that sustains us whom are true to one another…spanning this globe or that continent.
Genes or no genes.
Petrie dish or not…
I get to choose my genes/jeans today. That’s the blessing of becoming a grown-up.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 10th, 2006 at 8:48 pm and is filed under Dna stuff. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.