We can’t hold in our laughter.
Mom used to encourage us to sing and play guitar at church all the time, and most of the time we didn’t feel like it. There was a day where we were just so tired, that when we got up on the stage, my sister Lara became unhinged. Instead of singing a very sweet chorus sound of ‘oo-na-na’ before the lyrics began with our voices harmonizing, Lara started roaring it into the microphone, completely deadpan. She sounded like a caveman came to life, grunting out every syllable.
My mother never volunteered us to sing again after that. We were such a menace growing up, my parents certainly had their hands full.
We settle in comfortably onto the couch, ready to talk the night away.
“So, tell us all about Belgium.” Lara says, as she slinks both her arms on the armchair.
“I don’t even know where to start!” I sigh back onto the other armchair in the room.
“Well, what do you think of it? Are you enjoying living there?” My brother, Theo, pipes up. He’s the youngest of the family at eighteen, and growing up, he had to put up with a lot from us girls.
“I’m loving it. It’s different to Brazil. I love Brazil so much, but there’s just something about Europe that’s magical.”
“You’re staying for two months right?” Lara pipes up.
“She sure is! Not a day less!” Gabby looks over at me grinning.
“I can have about two and a half months off since the Blancs don’t need me these next couple of months. But I’ve got it all set to be back working for them in September.” Autumn. One of the most beautiful times of the year in Europe—we don’t really get what feels like a true autumn here in Recife. It's too tropical on this side of Brazil for that.
“Do you want to stay there for good?” Theo asks.
“Diving straight in, huh?” I laugh. “I don’t know what five years from now looks like. But I can tell you that today, I’m loving it. I’m looking forward to going back. But not before spending time with you guys.” I smile at them, and they grin back, like they understand exactly what I mean without me saying anything more.
We carry on talking for a while. By the time everything winds down, I’m so ready to climb into my bed after having a nice shower. Thoughts of Europe drift in and out of my mind as I settle into sleep. I don’t know what the future holds. Spontaneity and I are mostly friends. But I also love to plan things out, too.So I’ll enjoy the fact I’m here for now, and that I get to go back to such a beautiful corner of the world when we’re done.
5
Pastor John
August, 1990
It’s Friday night and Nate is sitting with Maria and me, having dessert after dinner. We invited him over to catch up on life—it feels like it’s been a few weeks since we last hung out properly.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Nate lately. I may be his pastor, but I’m also his best friend here in Recife. I like to make sure he’s well looked after. He’s been doing so much better recently—but I still want to do my part. I still remember the days when he wore grief like an outfit every day. Anyone who didn’t know him could probably tell, at least a little bit. But I knew him. I could see how it tugged on his heartstrings.
“Maria, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. All of your baking is delicious, but this passion fruit mousse is one of the best I’ve ever had,” Nate says, patting his stomach.
I chuckle. “I told you—I’m doomed to gain weight if she keeps this up!”
Maria snaps her tea towel at my arm. “You know you love it. You’re always asking me to bake your favorite things!” She laughs, resting a hand on my shoulder.
“Guilty.” I shrug.
“Well, guys, it’s getting late. I’d better get heading.” Nate scoots his chair back and stands.
I rise from my chair with him.
“Thank you so much for dinner, it was amazing. You guys fed me so well—I’d love to treat you both sometime. There’s this new restaurant down the road from my house calledCastelinho. It’s apparently a replica of an Italian castle inside.” We walk down the hallway toward the door. It really has been a great dinner. He’s laughed so much more this evening. I remember nights when his pain overwhelmed him and we walked through the grief together.
“That sounds great. I love the idea. You’ve been to Italy too, haven’t you?”
“I have. I loved it. It was beautiful. Seeing church history come to life felt a little surreal.” He reaches for the jacket hanging nearby.
“Which part did you visit again?” I ask.
“Just Rome. The Colosseum was especially interesting. Knowing how many people were killed there for sport really put things in perspective.” He nods thoughtfully, as if lost in the memory.
