Page 28

My mind is on my parents as I drive the snowy, windy roads in Cobalt Cliffs housing addition near Wing Covert Winery. The stately home we lived in was intimidating to some, but to me, it was home. It’s where I had sleepovers as a kid, celebrated countless birthdays for me and my siblings, and where I used to dream of an even bigger life.

Those dreams faded into the background when I saw Sandy Everhart my senior year of high school. I’d known of her and seen her around, but something about her that year captivated me. It made me reevaluate my life’s plans to consider having someone else be a part of it. Despite the attraction, I knew I had to go off to college and make something of myself.

What I never expected was for her to follow me there.

Thoughts of my younger days vanish when I pull into Mom’s driveway. I don’t see her car which means it’s either in the garage or she’s not home. Regardless, I have a key and know she won’t mind if I let myself in.

After inputting the code to stop the beeping, I close the door behind me and shed my coat. It’s silent in the massive home that once held laughter and love. Until spending so much time with Sandy and Nora lately, I never realized how cold my mother’s home had gotten. My chest aches at that thought.

Should I have stayed rather than jetting off to Seattle all those years ago?

Would it have made a difference?

There are Christmas decorations up, but far different than the ones I remember as a kid. These are fancy and over-the-top, indicative that Mom hired a company to come decorate for her. It only adds to the chill inside the home. Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful. The whole icicle and snow theme she has going on is pretty. It’s just not homey or welcoming.

Maybe I spent too much time feeling nostalgic along with Amos and Sandy last night.

My loafers squeak on the marble floors and my movement echoes loudly. Has this house always been so cavernous?

I make my way up the grand staircase to the second level. My room is the first one on the left. It’s been a long time since I lived at home, but the same bed I slept on as a teenager remains. Same with all my bedroom furniture. Mom has since decorated the room to match the rest of the house, and removed all my teenage posters, but it’s still my room.

In the closet, there are boxes I have kept here rather than dragging them to Seattle with me. Mostly they’re childhood mementos. There’s a box full of stuff my dad gave me. I grab that one and pull it down.

I bring the box over to my bed and set it down. After pulling off the lid, I sniffle and try not to sneeze from the dust. If Mom knew the maid missed some dust, there might be drama. My little secret.

Sitting on top of the items in the box is a picture of me and Dad. I must have been seven or eight. He’s looking at me while I hold up a fish on a line. We’re both grinning. I remember proudly telling Mom I caught it all by myself, even though Dad had to help reel it in there at the end. That was one of the best days of my life.

Beneath the photo is a leather-bound notebook. Dad was always into practical gifts. He gave me the notebook and told me to put my heart into it. That men don’t always have to be hard and strong for their families.

I flip it open and read my dad’s handwriting on the first page.

Upton,

You’re an achiever, Son. A good one at that. Just like your momma. But don’t let life pass you by in your pursuit of your dreams. Happiness is in the little details. Like when your kid catches his first big fish and can’t stop smiling. Moments like those are worth more than all the money in the world. Promise me you’ll slow down and notice those things. They’re what matter.

Love,

Dad

I sit down on the bed and flip to the next page. Then, I pluck a pen out of the holder on the side of the leather.

Dad,

I finally slowed down. It’s peaceful and quiet and happy here. You were right. Now that I’m here, I don’t ever want to leave. I have the most beautiful, intelligent daughter on the planet. Our relationship may be late, but it’s special and ours. I’m so grateful for it. Sorry I never wrote in this notebook, but I think I know someone who will.

Love,

Upton

After flipping to the third page, I write a new letter.

Nora,

This notebook is from your grandfather. I know you’ll cherish it as much as I have. I also know you’ll actually write in it. I’m thankful to be a part of your life. I’ve loved you since the second I knew of you. Here’s to the rest of our lives. I won’t miss another minute of yours.

Love,

Dad