Aunt Meg and Moon the Goon

My story would be incomplete with out the story of Aunt Meg. Most of the pictures of me before age 6 were probably taken by Meg. I slept in her bed when I stayed at Gran’s house, I was her tag along, and in my child’s eyes, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She was my playmate, she was my care provider, and she was my friend.

I remember hanging out at Old Friends Ice Cream Parlor, eating grilled cheese from the Arctic Circle with her, hanging out at the student union at Cochise College, and even getting a concussion playing zombies on the best lawn in Cochise County down at Cochise College. I remember she took me swimming in the college pool which didn’t have a shallow end less than 4 feet, and she couldn’t coax me into the water. I was the only person in the family to witness her wedding.

When I was seven, my mom moved to a new house up the canyon, close to my Gran’s house. One day my friend Anissa from my old neighborhood a few blocks down the canyon was playing with me at my Gran’s house. When it was time for her to go, my Gran told me to walk her home. Down the Canyon, past the Circle K, up the stairs, down Brohpy, past the Church, up the hill past the Courthouse, all the way to Higgins Avenue across from the pool we walked. As I was walking down the hill on my way back to Gran’s, barefoot, I saw my Aunt Meg and her boyfriend Mel going into the courthouse. I was always happy to see Meg…after all she was the most beautiful girl in the world, and she was wearing makeup on this day!

She invited me to come into the Courthouse with her, because she and Mel were eloping. I had no idea what it meant to elope, but it was an adventure, so I did. We went up the stairs, the marble staircase cool on my bare feet, into the judges chambers. Then I was asked to write my name, and I asked if I should write in cursive or script. As we were leaving the courthouse, Meg and Mel said they were going to AP, across the line, and I asked if I could come too. I think for a moment they thought about it, but Meg said no because my mom and Gran would freak out.

I waved goodbye to them, driving away in that yellow maverick, and continued up the hill, past the church, down Brophy Ave, down the stairs, across the street, past circle K and up the canyon as the sky was turning pink. Before parting ways, Meg and Mel told me that our time at the courthouse was a secret, and I couldn’t tell anybody: Not gran, not my mom, nobody.

My gran had this way of looking when she was angry, and when I came in the door, she was looking her angry look at me. Her eyes would look right through you, her lips would thin out, her chin would tilt down, and you could see her controlled breathing. She asked me where I was and I told her that I had walked Anissa home. She asked me where else I was. Now, I knew lying was wrong, but I also didn’t want to let Meg down. So I lied, and my Gran spanked me for lying.

The next day, when Gran asked me where I had been, I lied. And again, my Gran spanked me. This went on for several days. Finally Meg and Mel came to Gran’s house and confessed that they had eloped, and in their confession was my confession of where I was that day. My Gran didn’t spank me that day. It became sort of a joke of how well I could keep a secret.

I was never so devastated as when Meg and Mel moved to Tempe to go to ASU shortly after. But as I got older, I was allowed to go visit during the summers. It started with weekends with my mom, sleeping in the Volkswagen outside the little apartment. But as I got older, I was allowed to go for weeks at a time.

These summer excursions were the highlight of my year. During those weeks, she was my playmate, she was my care provider, and she was my friend again. And it was a bonus for me that she had Tima, my own personal baby doll who was happy to play whatever I wanted to play and she let me brush her hair with my magic brush -a crappy purple plastic Goody that probably yanked her hair by the roots. We day tripped to the parks, zoos and to Big Sur waterpark. In the evenings, when Tima was asleep, Meg would take me to Mill Avenue and we would walk around the shops, and have coffee at the Coffee Plantation. I felt so grown during those times.

As I got older, I started saving my money from babysitting all year because Meg knew where all the best outlets were, and we would spend days scouring the outlet malls and sale racks looking for school clothes. By this time, Sarah was born. Sarah was a fun baby, and she had this little birthmark that was a match to mine on her neck. I remember leaving a restaurant one day, and Meg had taken Tima to the bathroom, and I had grabbed Sarah and her diaper bag and headed outside. As we were leaving I held the door for a couple of little old ladies with Sarah on my hip. The disgusted look those ladies gave me…out of nowhere. I just couldn’t understand it until Meg explained that they must have thought Sarah was my baby, and I was so young.

I remember when that summer visit came to an end. Meg and I bought this fake Tattoo at the swap meet, specifically to prank my mom. It was this little Black and blue rose. Before heading out to the Denny’s on St. Mary’s Road in Tucson- our designated halfway meeting point, we carefully applied the tattoo prominently just under my collarbone on the left side. I made sure to wear a tank top that exposed the tattoo front and center. Now, my mom, like Gran had her angry look. It involved her eyes bugging out and her eyebrows up by her hairline and her chin tilted down. When she was really angry, her face would get red and blotchy. When she saw that tattoo, she had full on angry face, and even added some shaking. We laughed until we realized how unfunny it was to see my mom nearly have an aneurism over the fake tattoo, so we confessed. That was the day I learned of my Mom’s aversion to tattoos. A couple years later my friend Jeff gave me my first real tattoo, a tiny heart on my ankle that I hid from my mom for years.

Life moved forward, and I grew out of Summer time visits with Meg, but it was no less devastating to me when she packed up her children and her life, put her house up for rent, and moved to Saudi Arabia. Before the age of the internet that keeps people connected, back in the day of long distance phone charges, life just kept moving. There were visits home over those years, but as it goes when you come back to your small town, so many people to see, and so much to do. It just wasn’t the same. I felt like I lost my my playmate, my care provider, and my friend.

After some unfortunate business in Lebanon, Meg brought Sarah and Ali back to the US, rented a house, and enrolled them at the high school. My boys were small and their babysitter and Godparent had just passed away. Lupe had bought the clothes for the baptism of Madison, Jesse and Jake weeks before her passing. This left us with not only a huge hole in our hearts, but a need for childcare. The boys spent a lot of time with Aunt Meg and Cousins in their rental in the terraces. During those years, they became Tabouli and Hummus snobs. So did I. Nobody makes those things like Meg.

So much has taken place since that time. While no longer playmates, in many ways over those years she was a care provider, not just for me. She was also my friend. A lot of laughs, a lot of cries, a lot of changes, and goodbyes. This time it was me leaving Bisbee and moving my family across the country to Michigan. This is a story for another day.

Now, Aunt Meg has become an integral part of my Mom’s care. Shuffling her job, her own family, and my mom’s needs; making sure she eats, monitoring meds, checking in with her; she is doing the things that I don’t think anyone would have ever thought we would have to do for my mom, who used to be the person doing those things for others.

My gratitude for Meg is immeasurable. She has taught me so much in life about faith, love, loss, hard choices, easy choices, parenting, marriage, sacrifices, and humor. God knows, I don’t have a whole lot of humor and I take things so seriously…you just can’t always do that with Meg around. Most of all, I am grateful for the love and care she is providing for her sister, my mom.

Meg and my mom play interesting roles in the dynamic of the family. My mom being the oldest daughter, and Meg being the baby of the family, and the two of them the only daughters. My mom has always been the care provider, the advice giver, and the go to problem solver. In case you are wondering, she tends to be a know-it-all, which is where I get my know-it-all-ness from. She is also the queen of stubborn when she wants to be. Meg has always been a force, and it is a good thing, she will need it as she sees my mom through her end of life…and the dynamic has changed once again for all of us.