“My age is just fine,” Mom quips. “I could keep up with the house. I just don’t want to. I’m turning over a new leaf. I might even change my name.”
“Your last name?” I ask.
“Well, that too, of course, but while I’m at it, I thought I’d spruce things up a bit. Change my first name too. Maybe something like … Mariah. Or Sophia. Adalaide? I’ll figure it out. New day, new me!” She spontaneously throws her arms wide and bursts into the chorus of the Dolly Parton song,The Light of a Clear Blue Morning.“Come on, girls,” she encourages us. “Sing along with me.”
Mia belts out the familiar words about a brand new day and how everything’s going to be alright. My daughter’s been raised less than an hour from Dollywood. She knows the songs.
Avery teases me. “Come on, Hallie. Sing along.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. Easy for my sister to play choir director. Mom’s not moving into her house. She’s moving in with me. My mother: twenty-four, seven.
What the heck. I may as well sing through the chaos that is my life.
I join in, singing past the claustrophobic feeling, past the dread, past the what-ifs and the how-in-the-world questions. Our voices blend and I belt out the lines with gusto.
When we all end on the final line, singing, “It’s gonna beokay,” I smile around the kitchen at the three people I call family. I highly doubt it’s going to be okay. My mother is the strongest willed, most intrusive person I know. Moving her in is akin to inviting a baby hippo to dinner.
But Mom’s also going through a divorce. I’ve been there. If she needs a place to call home while she adjusts to her new reality, I can bend to make it happen—for now.
“Eat your muffin,” Mom tells me. “Do you want coffee?”
“I’m okay, thanks. I had coffee earlier, at the station.”
I take a bite of the muffin and close my eyes. It’s good—delicious, even.
“That’s right,” she says. “Enjoy having someone around who can cook for you. I don’t know why we didn’t think of this sooner. It just makes sense. You need someone to pitch in around here. And I need a place to live.”
“Makes sense to me,” Mia says like the miniature grown-up she seems to be half the time.
“Oh, me too,” Avery says, exaggerating her tone in a way that ensures I’m the only one to detect the sarcasm.
“We’d better skedaddle,” Mom says to Avery. “I don’t want to be out on the roads after dark.”
“Okay,” Ave says to Mom. “Let’s get going.”
Mom leans over and kisses Mia on the head. “Be good, little miss thing. I’ll be back for bedtime.”
“Bring me something from Buc-ee’s!” Mia says.
“They might not even stop at Buc-ee’s,” I tell Mia. “And, please use your manners.”
“Pleeeeease,” she adds, exaggerating the word for my benefit, and probably to add some honey for my mom to ensure they actually do stop to bring her something from the iconic roadside store.
“Of course we’re stoppin’ there,” Mom says. “Right, Ave?”
“Of course.” My sister beams at me.
“What was I thinking?” I say, rolling my eyes at my sister when Mom’s not looking.
Mom and Avery head out a few minutes later, leaving me and Mia alone for the day—probably the last day it will just be the two of us for a while.
“What should we do with our free day?” I ask Mia.
“Let’s decorate my room, throw the ball and then get ice cream!”
I smile at my daughter. “That sounds like the perfect day.”
“And then tomorrow you come to my school?”
