She always says, “It’s short for Oreo, not Olivia. Life’s a constant search for which color we ‘oreos’ identify most with.”
I can’t fully relate to O’s journey, but I try to.
Figuratively speaking, all of us have an “oreo” journey of sorts: Which side of our families are we sandwiched into the most; which side do we relate to the most?
With each passing birthday over a lifetime, a decision-making process develops as to which half of our genetic equation we more comfortably recognize. Or is the answer logically equal; it is what it is, no analysis necessary? Individual circumstances reign of course.
Even though my parents were born and raised in close, small-town proximity, virtually nothing about their families was similar. Diversity was their common ground.
In other words virtual opposites, IMHO.
Putting my finger on which side I identify most with isn’t easy. In fact, this blog isn’t easy. Triangle Park came up with it because we attended a family celebration for my husband’s side of the family last weekend. A rare occasion; my girls seldom see that side. It isn’t far-fetched to suggest they “don’t know them.”
My side, however, they are intimate with. We thought it’d be interesting to write about the contrasts between different sides of our families. Well, it turned out interesting indeed. Why? Because it’s hard! Try writing about both sides of your family and make it for public consumption.
I discovered an unexpected cloud of: if I suggest this it will hurt his feelings; if I say that, it might hurt her feelings. This may be a cop out, but for me, it’s truly split down the middle. No doubt I’ve contemplated and analyzed it over the years; I was certain one side took precedence. I love and relate to both sides 50/50. The diversity of the whole is what makes me, me.
O’s search clearly has a distinct variable that mine doesn’t have. I get that. But, our fundamental 50/50 and all the diversity combined within that, is what matters most. It makes Olivia, Olivia; you, you; and me, me. Contemplating which side you relate to most becomes irrelevant. All that matters is us.
Thank you for stopping by our blog! Love, Shelley