Shadows of family

Two reasons I'm thrilled to have shelled out eight bucks for the showing of Dark Shadows--reason number one being, of course, that Johnny Depp stars in it as Barnabus the vampire. He may be following the vampire fad that has swept up teen girls everywhere, but in a very Tim Burton-esque way. Think Edward Scissorhands meets Twilight, but with less suckery, blood and otherwise.
The morals of Depp's movies are certainly there, but they don't hit you over the head with a brick. I've learned quite a few life lessons from watching him; for instance, we should accept those who are different from us, greed will only get us so far, and one should always make sure there's a hearty stock of rum. Yet what I got in between the scenes of blood, gore, and fear of silver, was a theme that is prominent to everyone's regular life: there is no stronger bond than one between family.
It must be terribly awkward to go for a family visit after spending two centuries in a coffin; if small talk with strangers isn't hard enough, poor Barnabus had to learn the inner workings of the '70s. What a trippy situation--in more ways than one. But even though Barnabus had never met his eccentric family, as a Collins, he immediately felt a close bond and fierce protection towards each member. As Depp's character could never die, neither could his loyalty, despite the crazy witches trying to ravage then destroy him every two seconds. That always puts a damper on things.
I haven't let two hundred years pass me by, but I have gone without familial contact longer than I'd prefer. In the moment, it's easy to push aside the faces you don't see every day, or the voices you don't hear nagging you to "put your laundry away, I asked you to do that an hour ago". It's not an intentional distance either; I adore each and every person in my family, but I also enjoy designating my life to sleep, coffee, and blogging about how much I love sleep and coffee. So, in the midst of planning and chaos, I've seen quite a few relatives these past few weeks, and will be seeing more to come.
The pervading guilt of not keeping in touch speaks louder than any awkward small talk could, but as I've re-connected with cousins, aunts and uncles I haven't seen in years, I've noticed that such small talk was always kept to a minimum. From the first handshake to the goodbye hugs, my family has exhibited a strong sense of love and loyalty. Granted, there was some inevitable "how is work going?" and "what are you doing in college; you can only be eleven years old!" but the visits were mainly built up by a string of memories, of "do you remember when"s: the late night games of Candy Land Bingo (yes, such a thing exists), the beach house, where our two baby cousins fought over sitting in a plastic bucket, and watching our grandparents gently banter over nothing and everything. Seeing the people I love and respect more than anything once every few years gives me extra gratitude that I am surrounded by such a wonderful support system. There's that sense of joy of re-discovering how much I enjoy my family's company, and that I would do anything to see them happy. I may not tell them the everyday "he said that she said that they did" stuff, but I fill them in on the important aspects of my life, and I'm thrilled to hear the happenings of theirs. Loyalty doesn't die as the years pass, because as long as we are bound by love, I will always know that the shadow of family follows me, no matter where I go.

Namaste.