My mother’sdriveway is already full.
Cars spill onto the street in both directions, like the whole damn town decided to show up today.
Over the past year, our family dinners have grown in size, like my mother’s quietly been rebuilding something piece by piece. At first, it was just me, my kids, and my siblings.
Then Beckham got married, Haley and her daughter Maggie folding seamlessly into the mix. Jude met Abbey, and even without a ring, it’s obvious she’s not going anywhere. Finn finally stopped lying to himself about being in love with his best friend, and now Genevieve’s pregnant, glowing, and somehow still laughing at his terrible jokes.
My immediate family may have shrunk after Coradied, but my extended family grew. And it seems to keep growing.
I step out of my SUV, helping Presley down before slipping around to the other side to get Jemmy out of his car seat.
The moment I open the front door to my childhood home, I’m assaulted with a wall of sound. Laughter ricochets off the ceiling as someone argues about football in the living room. The smell of garlic, tomatoes, and fresh bread hangs thick in the air.
Jemmy squirms in my hold and I set him down. The second I do, he takes off running, Presley close behind.
“Slow down,” I call, even though it’s useless.
They don’t even look back. They barrel down the hallway into their favorite room in the house.
The toy room.
I kick the front door closed behind me and take in the familiar surroundings. It’s too big for one person, and I’ve told my mom that more than once. Suggested maybe it’s time to downsize into something smaller now that we’ve all moved out.
But she always shuts me down. Says she wants us to know we can always come home. That this place still belongs to all of us.
I think the real reason is simpler.
This is the house she bought with my dad. Where they made memories.
She isn’t ready to let go of those just yet.
Unlike me, who couldn’t get out of Chicago fast enough. Who couldn’t breathe in the house Cora and Ishared without feeling like every room was accusing me of failing her.
I draw in a deep breath, then head through the foyer and into the living room, grateful for the distraction of being around my family.
Especially after last night.
After kissing Rowan.
I’d spent most of the night convincing myself it was a mistake.
That I was out of my mind with grief and I crossed a line I shouldn’t have. One I won’t cross again.
But that didn’t stop me from replaying it in my mind all night long.
Her warmth.
The way she fit against me like she belonged there.
The soft, surprised sound she made when my mouth found hers.
It’s a blessing in disguise she has the day off. It’s given me space to figure out the best way to approach the situation when I see her next.
Although a part of me was disappointed when I didn’t see her sitting on the porch this morning, bundled up against the cold like she usually is.
I say my hellos to my siblings and their spouses, accepting hugs, claps on the shoulder, familiar grins.
Well, most of them are familiar.
