It’s been two weeks since my conversation with James, and I still haven’t quite figured out how I’m supposed to feel. I tell myself I’m fine, that I’ve processed it. In reality, I might just be a little numb. But I like to think I’m actually making progress toward beingmeagain, and that it wasn’t detachment that fueled my spur-of-the-moment decision to book a one-way ticket to Scotland last night.
My second graders file out of the classroom for the last time, their excited voices fading as they bolt toward summer freedom. I look around at the marker-streaked whiteboard and the crooked line of tiny chairs tucked beneath little desks. A swell of gratitude hits me, but there’s sadness, too. And a bit of terror, because this is real. I’m actually doing this.
I pull out my phone, fingers hovering over the screen. I still need to tell my aunt.
Me
So… I booked a flight.
I stare at my phone, my finger tapping restlesslyagainst the side of it. Her reply bursts onto the screen like confetti a second later.
Aunt Rose
You’re actually coming?!
Me
Ticket purchased, bag half packed, and classroom officially closed for the summer.
Aunt Rose
The room’s yours. The kettle will be on.
Me
Tell that sexy-voiced boss of yours to behave himself. I’m emotionally fragile.
Aunt Rose
He’s single…
Me
Stop it.
Okay, that’s on me. I opened the door with that comment, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to waltz into a candlelit dinner and a rebound situation. Besides, her boss is probably twenty years older than me. And while I can appreciate a good voice and a strong set of forearms, I’m not about to become the plot of someone else’s midlife crisis.
Just before the plane landed,I pressed my forehead to the window and got my first look at the Scottish countryside. Rolling hills, stone buildings, and wild greenery as far as myeye could see. It was the kind of beauty that didn’t ask for attention. It just existed, unapologetically stunning.
I don’t know if the jet lag will catch up to me later, but for now, I’m running on pure adrenaline and a ridiculous amount of caffeine. It only makes the scenery that much better.
Once I’m through the airport, I find the nearest bathroom and slip inside. I run a hairbrush through my long, loose waves, the bristles smoothing out some of the travel-induced frizz, and swipe on a little mascara. Nothing dramatic, just enough to make me feel like I’ve got it together.
Feeling a little more like myself, I head out, following the signs toward baggage claim. I try to slow my thoughts, to let the excitement settle just a little, but it’s hard when everything seems sonew.
Just as I round the corner, I spot Aunt Rose rushing toward me, her face lit up with the biggest smile. Her energy sweeps over me, and before I can even process it, she wraps me in a tight hug. I melt into her embrace, the familiar sensation of home blanketing me in a way that makes the traveling and exhaustion worth it.
She pulls back just enough to cup my face in her hands, like she used to when I was little, and something inside me stirs. It’s a mix of relief, longing, and the kind of grief I don’t know how to manage yet. I didn’t realize how much I needed this, how much I needed her, until this very moment.
“Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea how glad I am that you’re here.”
“Ditto,” I reply, giving her the best smile I can muster.
It’s been years since I’ve seen her, but her beautyhasn’t faded a smidge. If anything, she’s more striking than ever. Her silver-streaked brunette hair is pulled back loosely. Her hazel eyes, the same as mine, still have that familiar lively spark, andthe lines around her mouth are evidence of a lifetime of laughter
My thoughts drift to my mom, and a tightness settles in my chest. It’s that recurring ache, the one that always hits when I’m reminded of what could have been. I can’t help but wonder if she would have looked like Aunt Rose if she was still here.
The thought lingers, but I blink away the sudden sting of tears.
