Anyone who knows me well knows this: I am very open and expressive. I smile and chatter; I can debate a point much more than aptly. And yet I am finding it difficult to pull the simplest words out of my head and arrange them into sentences. I've been this way for the past few days, ever since Tropical Storms Carolyn and Teena ripped their way into my peace and threw things around.
I'm doing okay, I guess. I'm studying for a U.S. History II exam, which is keeping my mind occupied. It's been a huge relief to bury myself in World War II, the Cold War, Vietnam, Watergate -- although to be honest, I'm not sure how much of it I'll remember. Trying to hold a thought in my head right now is like cracking an egg into a sieve. It leaks out. Slowly, but it leaks out. This, I know, is my mind's way of insulating me from the shock -- because this has truly been a shock. Fantasy world? Leg licker? From Teena? My favorite aunt in the entire world? The woman who gave me cool clothes and taught me to love Janis Joplin, who took me to my first concert and my first live play, who took me to the library for the first time ever, let me get a lap full of books and read them to me over and over and over again? The woman who used to calm me by laying my tiny spastic body on her chest under an electric blanket and patting my back for hours? The one who taught me "Tutti Frutti," "Mary Had A Little Lamb," "Raindrops are Falling on my Head?" The woman who knew one of my deepest, darkest secrets and faithfully kept it to herself for years? If I let myself really think about the scorn and contempt this woman now holds for me, I will not be able to contain my grief. This little voice inside my head says: But you were my favorite. But I loved you. I loved you, I loved you, I loved you. Remember the time we went to Indiana Beach when I was little? Did you know I used to wish I had been born to you instead of your sister? Remember me being a flower girl at your wedding? Remember how excited I was to meet Levi? Logan? Lucas? Remember us watching 28 Days the Spring Break after Lucas was born, while I held him on the sofa bed? When I told you about what happened with Charles and you never, ever told anyone? Did you know that's still my favorite movie? I know every line. I adored you. I worshiped you. I wanted to be just like you: confident and sassy and brave. You were my hero. And now I have lost you. Now you're gone, and I don't know if I can do this without you.
I can't think about it. I can't. So it leaks out of my brain, right along with Stalingrad and the Manhattan Project and Japanese peace-feelers. I study until my hand hurts from holding the pencil and I get blurry vision, and only half of the stuff sticks. My brain, it seems, does not discern between what will hurt my heart and what will help my GPA; it ditches everything, evenly across the board.
I do not know how things will go from here, but I am hereby officially announcing my intentions to be formally adopted into the Bernard family, via a decree of adoption by a judge in a court of law. It's just time. It's time for me to quit pining over people who will never accept me and give my all to the people who do. I've got to quit fishing for love with my heart on a string when it's right here in front of me, just waiting for me to take it. It's a little scary for me to try to comprehend solidity and permanence on this undeniably irrefutable level (Terrifying, actually) but it's what I want. It's what I need. And if there happens to be a miracle whereby God manifests on Earth and slaps some sense into (most of) my biological family, well, they'll just have to share me.
I am Tiffany Bernard, daughter of Lou Bernard and Michelle Cothern Bernard, sister of Chelsey and Elizabeth, and aunt of Evangeline. Take me or leave me -- either way, I won't back down.
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