Bones, Back to Back to Back to Back

My parents live in the guest house. The main house, along with the guest house, was built in the 1950's by my grandfather, who I like to imagine was one of the Mad Men. He was an investment banker, and the firm he worked for still has this wonderful oil painting of him in suspenders and a beard; he looks surprised, as if no one told him he was being painted. It must have taken great concentration to hold that look that long.

The upstairs of the main house is empty. My grandmother lived up there. Now, I'm the only one who goes upstairs, because 1) that's where my clothes are, and 2) the only ice machine in both the big and little house is there. My mom called me yesterday and asked me to come home from the library because she needed ice.

In the downstairs of the big house is the Cave, which has four beds, a couch, and no windows. The XBOX is also in there. And a miniature refrigerator. My skin grows three shades paler in the winter. But the past few nights, my brother's friends have slept in there because school was canceled on account of the cold. Last night, five of them performed a snow dance in the driveway, which continued until one took a misstep on a patch of black ice. They took that as an answer.

So instead of playing XBOX, which was one of the goals I created after finals ended in my five year vacation plan, I'm sleeping on the couch next to the wall which is completely glass and offers no insulation. I can see the Christmas lights on the little house as I fall asleep. When I open my eyes in the middle of the night, they look like a belt of dying stars. Millions of red and green stars. Stapled to wood paneling. At that time of night, I can't separate what's romantic and what's trite.

On weeknights, TNT runs four episode of the crime drama Bones back to backstab. Since I spend the day working on my thesis and reading comic books (I spent my total of 75 dollars of Barnes and Noble gift cards on Joss Whedon's 24 issue run of Astonishing X-Men; best money I've spent since I paid one of the groomsmen at Miller William's wedding three dollars to recant and admit that I actually caught the garter), the time I spend watching Bones with my parents counts as maybe the last consistent family bonding I'll share with my parents for many cycles. I graduate in May, and then I'll leave. But Bones is quite good. It's about an uptight forensic scientist working with a mellow and handsome FBI agent. Everyone on the show can be described as snarky. Some of the murders seem a little too complex - I guess the writers just get carried away with themselves - and I'll never see the two leads get together, but that's just two rules for long running detective shows. I don't make the rules; I just need glasses to see them.

About this time two years ago, I left my parents to live in Rome for four months. We were separated, and so my thoughts of them were based on whatever happened that Christmas. It was nothing loud or spectacular; we spent some nice, quiet times together. The night before I left, we watched The Empire Strikes Back on VHS, because all the DVD's are Special Edition, which doesn't make artistic sense; let the deleted scenes bury the deleted scenes. But that was how I chose to spend my last moments with my parents. In fact, if a meteor was about to hit earth, I'd send a mass text message to all the girls I know, then I'd watch the Star Wars trilogy on VHS with my parents, and probably my brother's friends, because they would be sleeping over.

Tonight we watched Bones for the last time, because tomorrow TNT starts its weekend line up of movies. In the third episode, Booth and Bones came this close to declaring love, but they pulled away at the last minute, because it was suggested that their feelings only spun out of Booth's previous coma and hallucinations of Bones' fictional pregnancy. It sounds complicated now, but in made sense in context. They had just uncovered both a mass grave and a convoluted Ponzi scheme, so there was a lot going on, emotionally. But my parents agreed with me that the two belonged together. I probably won't watch Bones any this spring.