It's hot out, and my parent's yard is full of relatives I haven't seen in forever alongside loved ones I don't see often enough. My Dad is doing his usual host thing, moving easily between groups. Ah!, I think for the hundreth time, that's where I got it from.
We're sitting in a small group on the new wooden benches, watching the kids and puppies run endless circles around the swingset.
The breeze is cool, even in the wooded circle. My sister looks so happy and beautiful. I've never seen her happier than she's been in the last few years, and it drowns out the memories of that sad, independant, fiesty sixteen year old who felt the world at once owed and hated her. She's turned into a woman I lean on, and that's saying so very much. John looks over at her, and I feel a rush of love for them. The things she's been through, she deserves to be this happy.
What did I do to deserve my happiness? In a year, this will be me. I've just been lucky, I suppose. The luckiest.
John calls my niece up, and she already has tears in her eyes. As he bends to her and speaks about love, trust, a parent's responsibility, my eye well over. When she sobs 'I didn't think I'd cry so much!' we all answer with our own tears.
This is the most beautiful moment of the weekend, and we are now a family.
We're in the car again, just me and Pete taking the kids to dinner. My niece and nephew are in the back seats. They're laughing and telling stories, making up the grossest receipies they can think of.
How did they know this is what'll make Uncle Pete laugh more than anything?
Home again. And our own bed. It's never been so sweet. I love visiting, but being on twenty-two hours a day is a bit much. We curl up and drift off. I want to sleep for a week. I want no responsibility, daytime t.v., and lemonaide.
Instead, I have laundry and grocery shopping and friends that've missed us.
It's a good problem to have.
Our friend's ended up in the emergency room.
I'm the first to get the call, since the other person (people?) she'd call are a few towns away.
I rush there, and am met by a care nurse. He talks to me and then takes me to a very small waiting room.
As I sit there, it washes over me, this horrible sadness and nervousness. I thank god that we know it's minor, that our friend is perfectly fine. Otherwise, this must be the most terrible room in the world. There's no warmth here. Only a dark sense of anxiety.
I never want to go back to that room.
I'm playing with her new phone since she's trying to show it off. Fiddling with the buttons, I open her received texts.
I know what I'm going to find. I don't want to see it. But, some impulse : I have to.
What I read there makes my stomach turn. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, why don't you listen to us?! How can this be okay?! I've talked myself hoarse. I've cried, screamed, listened, tried to understand. For over a year now. None of it has changed anything, and now it's come to this.
I'm lost for her. I'm scared for her.
There is literally nothing I can do.
I buckle all of those emotions down and walk away. I have to. For my own sanity, for my own life. It's the only option left.
I'll be there when she needs me.
Dear God, please don't let it be in one of those little rooms.
