Dinks...Stinks

When I was a kid, my aunt and uncle's house was like a giant playground for me and my 3 siblings. My grandparents lived close by, and my parents would stay there, and we'd hang out at Auntie L's and Uncle D's. They lived in a big, beautiful, new house, with the kind of furniture I wanted when I grew up and a big screen T.V. and a laser disc player (remember those?!). But what was really great was going to bed late, getting up and watching cartoons without making our beds first, banging away on my uncle's drums--a break from the normally strict household we grew up in, and I like to think we all got along better with each other as a result (but that part may just be me recreating history a little).

My aunt and uncle didn't have kids then, and it never occurred to me, as a 8 or 10 year old, that they might want to. I think we all naively assumed that they were there just to give us a vacation from our parents. It was a place where each of us felt loved and none of us felt judged. It was heaven.

My parents called my aunt and uncle "Dinks"--to their face, and behind their backs. Way back in the 80's, when "Yuppie" was a new word, "Dink" was even newer. It meant, "Double Income, No Kids." I think it was my parents' way of dealing with the jealously they must have felt, since they were loaded down with four kids, on one income, with pretty much nothing left over for them. They saw my aunt and uncle as free wheelin'. Since my parents called them "dinks," we did too.

How I wish, wish I could take that back now. My aunt and uncle struggled for many years to have children. I can't imagine how hard it was to watch my parents do it, again and again. (A couple who is not above telling you, "It was so easy for us!") To be taunted for the nice things they had, when knowing what I know now, I'm sure they would have given it all up if they could have just been parents. How they gave us so much love, so much acceptance, when (if they're anything like to me) they couldn't help but think, "why can't I have my OWN children?" They didn't love us less, but they had more to give.

Thankfully, they were able to. They had a son. The pain ended in something positive. I wish I could say the same for that horrible label, the label I regret, the one that I know may have hurt them, the one I naively and insensitively used. I wish I'd known better.

My aunt and uncle's house is still that haven for me. And they've been able to help me on my own journey, sharing the pain of an experience close to home. There's a lot better words I could use to describe them now. Like THE BEST.