Posted By: Tali
(They’re creepy and they’re kooky, mysterious and spooky…They’re all together ooky, the WeMA Family…)
It all started on Sunday morning in Church at Lenox. We were fifteen minutes early (a little unusual for us), and we sitting quietly in the pew, waiting for services to begin. That was when we realized something very interesting: our outfits endowed each of us with a role that corresponded to a family, roles that, funnily enough, fit each of our personalities. In a nutshell (though Kara might be allergic to nutshells), this is what we looked like:
The mother: Katie, a white collared button up shirt and a khaki skirt, with flats, observing the surroundings and reading the program for the day.
The father: Eric, with his collared shirt, tie, and business pants, looking serious, preparing himself for church.
The oldest child: Kara, sitting up straight (perfect posture as usual), in a blue, classy dress, attentive to the front of the room.
The middle child: Tali, knee length jeans and an open button up shirt with a tank top underneath, as though ready to play kickball the moment church ended.
The youngest: Caroline, with her yellow, flowing sundress, two braids to either side, a bright smile, as always, on her face, ready for anything that would come her way.
This family metaphor, with these specific roles, has followed us throughout the trip. In Williamstown, Family WeMA reached a milestone in its life: we moved into our own house. The middle and youngest children (Caroline and Tali) shared a room, the oldest, Kara, got her own. Katie slept in a queen sized bed while Eric, the father, slept in the basement, paralleling a husband who got kicked out of the room for whatever reason. When dinner was ready, it was not uncommon to hear: “Kids, dinner’s ready!”
In Greenfield, though out of the household setting, WeMA’s family spirit was still going strong. On Saturday, we gave each other numerous group hugs (a pastime in my family at least) after our on-stage cheer. And as we prepared our bikes to leave Greenfield for Springfield, our parents reminisced about how they used to put Caroline in our baby trailer attached to the bike, and bungee certain other children (hem-hem) to the top of the bin instead.
It is hard to describe exactly in what ways this metaphor continues to prove itself accurate, but it is clear to anyone who meets us that team WeMA is not your ordinary team, nor is it your randomly assorted college students who met a little more than a month ago for the first time.
We have already taken the Commuter Rail together . . . and got a family rate. Chances of a family reunion next year? Looking pretty good.