Column: Don’t take ‘furniture’ for granted

When I was about 15, my four siblings almost seemed like pieces of furniture. I’d come home from school or wrestling practice or whatever and my kid brothers and sisters would always be sitting in the living room.
Not only did I anticipate seeing them everyday, it was all but a guarantee. Similar to how you know you’ll encounter that worn coffee table in your living room each evening, I knew I’d see my siblings.
But when you’re a kid, you assume furniture is forever. No 15 year old expects the family couch on which he’s watched TV, fought fevers and spilled popcorn will one day end up in a back-alley dumpster. A 15 year old assumes he’ll see that cushion’s ugly 1970s stitching pattern for the rest of his life. Similarly, no 15 year old expects the people he’s played, fought and sometimes cried with will one day be scattered like assorted furnishings at a garage sale.
Now that I’m 26, I sure wish I hadn’t taken my childhood ‘furniture’ for granted. But I guess you can’t really appreciate a cozy chair until you’re sitting on the floor wondering why your back aches.
My brothers are 12 and 18 while my sisters are 23 and 28. Considering our wide span of ages and the fact we’re spread across three different cities, I shouldn’t be surprised our lives don’t intersect nearly as often as they used to. Life runs at its own pace regardless of whether or not you’ve sprained your ankle.
But it’s been over a year since all five of us have been in the same place, and I’m starting to wonder what good a kitchen table does when there’s no chairs to surround it. Common sense tells me this simply dissolves any semblance of support. It’d be easy to snap like a whip and blame my divorced parents for some sort of vague lack of coordination or effort on their part. But isn’t it just a bit too easy to blame your mom and dad for everything?
It’s easy to watch a horror movie and ask, ‘Why would you check the closet? That’s a dumb move.’ But unless you’ve been attacked by a knife-wielding summer camp ghost, you can’t honestly claim you’d do better in that situation. Likewise, I try not to judge my parents for their decisions considering I do not, and can never, understand their personal situations and what they’ve been through. Not to mention that when you start spraying blame, it’s all-too-easy to direct fire at yourself. It seems impossible to play the blame game without it quickly turning into Russian roulette.
I don’t mean to sound bitter, I’m actually grateful my family is as close as we are. I know many families aren’t as lucky. Though we’re sometimes missing members, my family thrives on regular gatherings and catching up. Regardless of physical or emotional distance, I know my family is filled to the brim with love. I truly can’t express enough gratitude for this in a half-page column.
Dwelling on lost furniture or longing for the once-complete-set can be all-too addictive at times. Instead, I’d rather fill my emotional gas tank with gratitude, not only for the support my siblings and I gave each other growing up, but for our continued love and ever-growing friendships with one another.
If you grew up with familial “furniture,” let them know just how much they mean to you. Because unlike the old trusty family couch, siblings don’t get thrown away. And support from siblings doesn’t disappear when they leave the living room, even if your back does ache from time to time.