“Bring your own basket.” She smiles in triumph.
“Well then, carry on.” I roll my hand with a fry clenched in my fingers, ice cream dripping from the tip.
“So the asparagus festival is one of many festivals this town celebrates. I’m pretty sure every holiday is a festival.”
“Oh, what’s the plan for Thanksgiving?” The image of a big Paul Bunyan type chasing a turkey through the town flashes behind my eyes—and by turkey, I mean a person dressed up as a turkey.
“Not much, they don’t go all out for Thanksgiving.”
“But you just said?—”
“I know, but they don’t really talk about Thanksgiving. They find it offensive.”
“A town that finds Thanksgiving offensive?” I harrumph. “I’m going to have to check that one out more extensively.”
A chair scrapes along the floor a moment before Arlo flops down at our table. “I wouldn’t mention Thanksgiving too loudly around here,” he whispers.
“I’m going to need more info on this.” I offer him the half eaten plate of fries as I finally dig into my burger. It’s delicious, with all its beefy goodness, cheese, and bacon, and is that avocado? Doesn’t matter, I’m in love.
Arlo grabs a fry, and with a chuckle, says, “It isn’t anything secretive. It’s just that Christmas is such a big event that Thanksgiving gets overlooked.” His jaw ticks. He may not be lying to me, but he’s not giving me the whole truth.
“That was anticlimactic.” I pout.
“You haven’t seen Wonderland.” Arlo glances at me with a wistful expression that throws me for a moment. Right then, his grumpy demeanor vanishes, and in its place is a man dreaming like a child.
Some part of me wants to see more of that look on him. I have no say in the matter when it comes to Arlo, though. Right now, we are still just strangers swiftly moving toward becoming acquaintances, but it doesn’t change the fact I want to see more of it.
I also want to experience whatever emotion that could give me that look. Have I ever spent a time in my life where I felt what he’s feeling right now? Aside from the day the doctors laid Lark in my arms, no. It’s a cold slap of reality.
“What’s a wonderland?” I glance away, finding that dopey-eyed look almost too much to handle.
“Christmas in Silent Springs.” He steals another fry, choosing to speak as he chews. “It’s a month-long event that takes a month to set up. Now that it’s November, it’s only a matter of time before you see the ladders come out and the lights go up.”
“Christmas lights? So that’s what makes it so spectacular?”
“No,” he replies. “It’s just one of those things you have to see to believe.”
“Like Santa?”
With a teasing wink, he stands, putting his chair back. “He visits too. Not even Santa can resist the lure of Silent Springs.” With that parting statement, he grabs a bag off the counter and leaves the little diner. I shamelessly watch him cross the street through the giant windows, my fingers drumming on the countertop.
“Hmm.” Lark pokes my cheek with a fry, snapping me out of it.
“Human.” I go back to my burger, dismissing that entire conversation.
“You like him.”
“As a mechanic? Yes, I need him to fix up the bug so we can drive right to Maine.” I realize my mistake as the words fly out of my mouth.
Lark deflates. Her entire body slumps, and I know I just messed up. It’s hard, really, as a parent. You want what’s best for your kid, but at the same time, I’m the adult and the one makingadult decisions. It doesn’t matter how much I tell myself I’m doing the right thing, she might not see it that way.
And that’s where life slaps me in the face. Her hurt over my words twists my guts into a knot, and if I’m not careful, that knot will never unwind and only tighten further.
This small human taught me some of the best life lessons I’ve learned over the years.
Like patience. I worried and worried for years that she just wasn’t hitting all those milestones the doctors and nurses said she needed to hit. Anxiety was my bedfellow for years, until one day, she woke up not just talking in full sentences, but with such power that I realized that she just had nothing important to say before.
Until the day she did.
