up on the roof!

I have this feeling like I've written before about the roof top. Yes, I think I have. But it's a special place. There's a photograph of my grandfather on the roof when the house was being built. The roof is the last part of the structure that gets put on....he was standing there, looking toward where the restaurant now stands. And there was a couple of guys working on it. I guess he was managing the progress. I don't know.

I never met my paternal grandfather, and like so many other people, I sit and wonder what he was like. What is it about my family history that got me to where I am now? Made me the person I am today? I escape to this spot, far from chatter, far from prying eyes (though I'm sure someone sees me, those sneaky bastards). I come here, and I imagine that he stood in this exact spot. That's about as close as I can get to his body, his realness. I ask people about him. What was he like? Oh, he was a great man. Everybody loved him. That's a generic answer, always. So I pry a bit more. Was he quiet, or did he crack jokes all the time? He was a jokester, and that makes a lot of sense to me.

Oh family history. What have you done? Are you sorry for the ills you've caused? Proud of the happiness? Are you even aware of the consequences of your actions? Probably not. Your members now sit in their homes, their small lives, not realizing that that ripples can become waves that wash away possibility, wash away innocence, wash away responsibility.

I'm sad, but nothing can be done to right the wrongs. Nothing but to take what I'm learning
and try to turn the tide.

These water metaphors, though cheesy, are apt in a place where every drop is precious.

Everything gets stolen - land, water, my friend's sleeping bag, my other friend's bracelet that her grandmother gave her. You can take things, occupiers, but you can't take my love, and you can't break our will.