graceful

Here’s my side of the story in case you happen to hear it from someone else (cough, ahem: Nantsu, Guya). I feel I need to let my voice be heard. Why? Guya has taken it upon herself to link my blog to hers with the following label: My Graceful Sister.

Not so. Not so much. Not at all.

Honestly. I don’t know quite how it started, but two of my lovely siblings took it upon themselves to deem me as graceful. They incessantly commented,

“Oh, Analyn, you’re so graceful,”

“Wow, look how gracefully Analyn does the dishes,”

“I wish I was as graceful as Analyn.”

These remarks always made me almost-retch, and by that I mean: they rather irked and bothered me because I am not one-cent-worth graceful. Siblings, though, do have a fancy way of precisely and pointedly irritating. I still loved them despite my new label. I simply felt quite at odds with grace.

These graceful statements began last summer and continued into our trip to McCall, Idaho in August. We were having a particularly fine morning trying to decide what the day would hold. There was a slight bit of tension hanging o’er us like a cloud (no, the GPS family is not as perfect as some might perceive). Some of us were ready to head out on our bikes, but there had been some confusion; the confusion led to aforementioned tension and heated silence.

As one of the ones prepared to cycle away, I had already adorned my head with my helmet. As we puttered around, I needed something from the back of the van. I turned to retrieve the item and smacked my head straight into the back door of the van. Usually when it’s open all the way, there’s more than enough clearance for my head. But, alas, it was not open all the way. It hung down a few inches more than usual because of the car-topper. Bam. Smack. Bang. Insert any sound effect and it would probably do the job. Luckily, I had my helmet on, remember? I was a little dazed, but not harmed in the least bit. No one laughed for a couple seconds, and I knew what was coming after the startled silence. So I started, “Don’t say it,” just as my brother and sister simultaneously began, “Wow, look how gracefully Analyn handled that.”

Laughter ensued and I even smiled while trying to keep up my frustrated glare. It didn’t work for long.

I still fight the graceful label, but I try not to give as big of a reaction when such is applied. I’m trying to take it all in gracefully.