Updated: Jul 13, 2022
In this book so far, there has been an overwhelming number of references to the negative. In life, there are people who are optimists, realists, pessimists and so on. I would like to think of myself as a realist, but when it comes to memories, I struggle to remember the good times as clearly as the bad. I think a lot of people do this, it's why the news obsesses over the bad, rarely do people care about all the good news if it isn't monumentally good, like a woman being elected president (which actually might be bad if she's like, female Hitler) or news about ice cream being free for the rest of our lives... lol.
But there are many good moments in my life. Something in particular that I cherish to this day is the warm feeling I would get from the sunny days in Washington. Then, but also now.
Growing up in Auburn, the rain is often beautiful and falls about 40% of the year. The rest of the time, you can expect overcast skies, and the occasional sunburst. Some people get really depressed from the constant gray, much like you may have seen in the movie "Twilight", but I love it. It's my home. I've noticed people tend to like where they grew up. The moments when the sun breaks through the clouds are something I cherish to this day. Here, it feels like heaven, because you can't find a complaint about your environment, and all there is left, is to enjoy it.
A beautiful day in Los Angeles is cheap, and often underappreciated. A beautiful day in Seattle? The city becomes a mob of people who are the embodiment of "high on life". Seriously, when it's sunny in this part of Washington? It's like everyone just unloaded their life's problems on their therapist and are finally ready to move on. Talk about a bunch of grinning faces and eager hearts.
Much of my childhood we had a neighbor, who has since passed away. He was an old man who very much so appreciated my middle sister (the evil one, half-kidding) more than me. To give prime example of who was his favorite visitor: One day, I left his house before my sister. I crossed the car bridge, over the creek that separated our homes, and went inside. When my sister got home it was revealed that he had given her a bag of candy. It was a bag of candy, out in the open, that I saw before I left. As I recall, I even asked him about it, and he said he was saving it. The man was waiting for me to leave, so she could have the treat, and not me.
I found the situation rather odd, considering we were small children, and it could have been split between us, but he chose to give it all to her. My sister was always a, embarrassing, people pleaser. Let me expand on that.
My middle sister has the personality of someone I would describe as: Deeply unsettling or charismatic wicked. Someone who would ask you "How's your day?" and say "You look lovely today!" while stabbing you in the chest.
What I mean by this, is I have no idea who my middle sister actually is. When I was young, very young, she would beat me up, seemingly constantly. This would happen whenever I made fun of her. When she was angry, I was often laughing, and as a result, she hurt me, over, and over again. Her answer to my jokes, was hitting me in the face. My mom used to warn my sister that one day, "Greggy is going to grow up to be bigger than you." Implying, she could not bully me forever. My mom was right.