Some conversations are so absurd that they force your mind into tangential reflection. During a recent phone call with my eldest nephew Junie, his roommate/platonic life partner Tor walked into the kitchen as Junie was making pancakes. Somehow the subject of ravioli came up, Tor’s argument being that every culture has some form of stuffed dumpling, from the Spanish empanada to the Japanese shumai, and that in America, our version is the Pop-Tart.
This was a hill she was willing to die upon. Junie then wondered where that left UnCrustables, and he had a valid point. Arguably, they are more ravioli shaped, and since they’re sealed, doesn’t that mean they’re no longer just a sandwich?
I just love this kid. I don’t even think he knows how funny he is. I mean, he did name his cat Lady Bimble of Lansdowne Borough. Junie isn’t exactly a Whiskers or Fluffy kinda guy. If only he could see himself the way that I do. From the second he was born, Junie made me believe in love at first sight, and that’s saying a lot because his head was so pointy from a difficult labor that the little hospital beanie he had to wear after delivery barely hit him mid-forehead. Don’t worry, it rounded out eventually.
In my heart, Junie will always be that perfect little baby, but if we want to get all chronologically technical about it, Junie is a 27-year-old man: a 27-year-old man who struggles with very big feelings. Like his auntie (yours truly), he has spent most of his life grappling mano a mano with depression and anxiety. Unlike his auntie, he hasn’t quite mastered the one-two punch yet, and I stress yet, because I have an unyielding conviction that he’ll land that haymaker and send his depression flying one day.
Like I said, I wish Junie could see himself through my eyes. He puts so much pressure on himself to live up to the expectations of others, and Dear Dolly Parton, do I know what that’s like. The thing is, Junie hasn’t quite figured out his path yet. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve been there myself. But Junie thinks it’s a problem, which just adds to his depression, because in his mind, the problem is him.
He’s not the problem though. Neither is the fact that he doesn’t have a clear course planned. J.R.R. Tolkien wrote, “Not all those who wander are lost,” and I vigorously agree with that sentiment. In a way, I think Junie is trying to get off the path that was set before him, so a bit of wandering has been necessary. I can’t say I blame him. Junie’s path has been cluttered with trauma.
The shit this kid witnessed when he was little would make anyone with half a heart sob. On top of growing up in a home where domestic violence and drug use were too commonly observed, when he was 10-years-old his baby brother was killed in a housefire caused by his own father who, after being released from prison for said fire, overdosed on heroin and died.
Then his mother, who couldn’t cope with her son’s death, turned to drugs herself, ultimately resulting in my parents (his grandparents) taking custody of Junie and his little sister, whom he had bravely rescued from the fire.
This could have broken him. It could have made him resentful, cold, mean, cynical, but it didn’t. Junie’s trauma made him gentler, kinder, funnier, more protective, compassionate, and marvelously sensitive. While sometimes it flickers, Junie didn’t let his light fade into the grief of his past.
Instead, he turned bitter into sweet without even trying. It’s just who he is, and I’m so proud of him for it. Does he struggle with depression and anxiety? Yes, but isn’t he fucking entitled to that?
So ahem, back to the ravioli theory. Listening to Junie and Tor debate with unapologetic seriousness about Pop-Tarts, I delighted in how silly he was able to be in that moment.
That’s the real Junie. Playful and unpretentious. For all the pain that could have swallowed him whole, Junie is still here – still gentle, still hilarious, and still leaning into joy and connection over ridiculous philosophical arguments about stuffed pasta and toaster pastries.
He may not see it yet, but I do. Junie is not broken. He is not lost. Junie is becoming. And I have no doubt that the same tender heart that turned unimaginable pain into unshakeable kindness will lead him to the exact path where he belongs.
You have no responsibility to live up to what other people think you ought to accomplish
– Richard Feynman
Leave a Reply