He only raises his eyebrows and nods toward the couch.
I approach Mom slowly. I’m still frustrated with her. I feel so much pressure to be perfect, to please her, to make her proud. And sometimes it feels like she doesn’t see or appreciate the real me—the messy one who makes mistakes and doesn’t always choose the “responsible” path. But I know that she loves me and Lisa. When either of us truly needs help, she’ll be there. Having a love like that, that I never have to doubt, makes me lucky beyond words.
“Mom? What’s Dad saying about a bucket list?”
She looks up and catches his eye across the room with a small smile. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hands and stands up.
“Oh, come on. You’ll like this,” she says, leading me toward her bedroom. “I found it in the attic. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as we thought.”
She digs through a cardboard box on her bed and pulls out a tattered piece of lined paper. I sit on the bed, holding it in my hands and blinking back tears.
I follow the childish scribbles with my eyes, feeling my heart beat through a tight chest.
“Junie’s Travel Bucket List” has ten destinations listed. Paris, Fiji, Egypt, and, in big capital letters and carefully copied script: Australia. I finger the tiny kangaroo my little hands had drawn all those years ago.
“You made this after Niagara Falls. So you’ve wanted to travel to far away places since you were seven at least. Maybe this really is what you need.”
“I can’t believe you kept this,” I laugh, laying the paper carefully on the bedspread and wiping my eyes.
“I keep everything.” She shrugs. “I love you. All of the versions of you. New ones, old ones, forgotten ones, and changed ones. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
“Thank you, Mom.” I pull her into a tight hug. My chest feels cracked open and drained dry, but she’s not done.
“You were right, you know. The other night. I’m sorry I reacted like that. You have to know, you were always the easy one. Lisa gave us such a hard time, but you were always so responsible, so hardworking. I’m proud of you, Junie. If anyone can find a way to make a crazy dream come true, it’s you. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt yourself.”
“You won’t be upset if I go?”
“Of course I’ll be upset. I’ll miss you like crazy. But if this is what your heart is calling you to do, then you should follow it. That’s what Grannie would’ve done. I’ve always wished I could be a little more like her, but I think the adventurous gene skipped a generation.”
I’m sobbing, I can’t help it. “I miss her so much.”
“I know you do. But I see her spark in you. Don’t let anyone put it out. Don’t end up with a life piled up with regrets. Do you love that boy?”
“I really do, Mom. From the moment we met, I’ve felt like I was drowning, but I don’t even miss the air.”
“Then you should go for it. We’ll be here, no matter what. Whether you’re falling in love, rescuing sea turtles, or checking destinations off your bucket list, we’ll be cheering you on.”
“I really needed to hear that.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” I never want to stop hugging my Mom. “Don’t worry about us. And that includes Lisa. We’ll be okay. You go chase your dreams.”
She cradles the back of my head with her hand as she pulls back and looks in my eyes. “I saw the way he looked at you. He’s the real deal, Junie. Unless you don’t want him, then screw it. You can still run away and become a world explorer. Just know that your home will always be here. And we’ll always be happy to see you.”
When Lisa and I finally leave that night, we’re emotionally exhausted, and melt straight into Grannie’s couch.
“Was it as bad as you thought?”
“No,” Lisa sighs. “I feel better, actually. Lighter. Thank you for letting me stay with you.” We hug and she drifts to standing. “I’m beat. I’m going to bed. Good night.”
Left alone in my living room, I look around at all my belongings. All the things David and I bought and filled our home with. All the things Grannie left me with.
None of it really means anything to me. I’ve been putting so much effort into going through each item, saving, selling, or packing it away. I’ve called so many storage companies, trying to find the most cost effective way to keep all this furniture.
Do I really want an IKEA bookshelf I built with my ex boyfriend?
Fuck no.
I want hammocks in Bali. I want eye masks on airplanes. I want stinky, fishy, salty, wet scuba gear, and cold showers, and to choose between two pairs of flip flops every day.
