I shot her a look. “Fine. But I can’t just leave you, or the house. Who would take care ofthings?”
“Hmm. Let me think.” Her voice carried a touch of sass. “Probably the same people who do now. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed it’s Papa out there mowing the lawn every week. Or, that the kitchen doesn’t magically cleanitself.”
Another deep sigh escaped my lips. I couldn’t look at her. She was right. I hadn’t done a damned thing around the house. And, yeah, I had heard the mower outside the window. And I had listened to the running water in the kitchen whenever my grandma came over to drop offmorefood.
I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t lookather.
“Oh, Katie.” My grandmother said, her voice softer, more compassionate than before. “I know you’re hurting. And, it does me and Papa good to have someone to take care of. But, your mother, she wouldn’t want to see youlikethis.”
“I know, grandma. But to just get up andleave?”
“Why not? Honey, your Papa and I will be just fine. We have our friends, and the church has been taking really good careofus.”
“But–”
“And,” she continued, not giving me a chance to argue, “obviously, you’re taking this year off. Why not spend some time out West? Enjoy the fresh air and wide, openspaces.”
“But mydad’s?”
“Katie, your mom’s house is yours now. It’s not going anywhere. If it’s awful out there, you come back home and we’ll figure something else out. But I think you shouldtryit.”
That, along with another long talk with both of my grandparents, was how I ended up on a plane flying thousands of miles across the country to a small town in Idaho. I spent the flight trying not to relive the events of the last fewmonths.
About halfway through my senior year of high school, my mom was diagnosed with a very aggressive, very untreatable form of cancer. And, while she expected me to continue on as if nothing had changed, the truth of the matter was, everythinghadchanged. I stopped playing soccer just to spend extra time with her. I did the bare minimum required to pass my classes the last semester of high school in order to help more around thehouse.
I had been used to my mom doing everything for me. It had only been me and her for years and she spoiled me to no end. In those final months together, I learned just how much she did and just how little I was capable of taking care ofmyself.
She had packed as much real life education into my life as possible with the remaining time we had together. The proper way to wash whites, how to fold a fitted sheet. (That skill still eluded me.) General maintenance around the house, how to cook. I had no idea there was so much tolearn.
When she died, I was left living in the house she willed to me. I was essentially set, but my life felt like ahotmess.
My friends were getting ready to leave for college and I was taking an unwantedgapyear.
The thing was, I had wanted to go to college. Hadreallywanted to go. I’d even been accepted into my dream school. I had the grades, extracurriculars and community service that made me a well-rounded asset to almost any school. I even knew what I wanted to get my degree in while so many of my friends wereundecided.
But, instead of following my dream, I made plans to go visit my dad. He’d called or texted me every day since the decision had been made. The most contact we had had inyears.
Dad: I’m going to get some paint today. What color do you want yourwalls?
Me:Any.
Dad: Would you like a TV inyourroom?
Me:No.
Dad: I thought I’d buy one of those online mattresses that come in a box. King-sizeokay?
Me:Sure.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his effort and enthusiasm. It just seemed so unnatural, considering I hadn’t really spoken to him since he and my mom got divorced and we moved down to Florida. I decided I would go with it with itfornow.
My stomach lurched as the plane hit the runway after making its final descent. For better or worse, I was here. I hadn’t packed any carry-on luggage, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stay focused on anything. Stealing a glance down at my nails, it turned out I had given biting them my utmost attention. Something I hadn’t done inyears.
Maybe I should have brought my phone after all. I just hadn’t seen the point when I was packing. I was currently on a major social media sabbatical. Facebook, deactivated. Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat? All deleted from my phone. In fact, the remaining icons didn’t even take up the entire screen on my phone right anymore. It was so bare boned, I hardly saw the point of having it in my pocket at alltimes.
When my mom died, I was hurt to see just how few of myfriendswere actually there for me. Oh, they scrunched up their faces in a show of pity and told me how sorry they were. Some let me cry my eyes out. But only so many times. No one wanted to deal with depressed Katie Lynch and herdeadmom.
They were all getting ready to go their separate ways on their separate adventures. My peers were excited about being on their own and tasting freedom. I found I had way too much of it. Because of these different directions and places in life, I found my social media interaction lacking. And now that it was gone, I really didn’tmissit.
