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“I’m being totally serious!” Mom laughs. “She went to rehab after a little fender bender, got out, and decided she liked it better in there, so she checked herself back in. She likes the view. And she likes the food. She never could cook!”
“Oh my God, you are right about the cooking. She was good with a can opener though.”
“Well I guess everybody has a skill,” Mom sniffs. “Anyway, I can’t really judge. I’m glad she’s not alone, right?”
“Long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”
Heavy heels on the front porch are followed by the banging of the screen door. In moments my father appears in the doorway, filling it entirely. He looks at both of us, scowling in surprise.
“What are we smiling about?” he asks slowly and carefully.
“Look who’s here!” my mom hoots in response as he crosses the room toward her. “It’s our beautiful daughter, with an impossible project!”
“Now, Maude,” he fusses, burying his lips on the top of her head, “you know nothing is impossible.”
“That’s what I was hoping you would say!” I announce as I leap from the barstool and rush toward him.
My dad opens his arms to catch me, holding me tight like he used to do when I was little. I used to think he was as big as a house, taller than the shed. Even since I’ve grown up, he still feels that way to me. I inhale the smell of sawdust and sweat from his work shirt with relish.
“Whatever you need, baby girl,” he promises me as he swings me back and forth.
Reluctantly, I let him set me down and back away, shrugging. I don’t want this moment to end, even though I put it off for so long. It really is nice to be home. But the overwhelming urgency to get started is impossible for me to ignore.
“You remember the hat shop?”
He nods. “Of course I do. What about it?”
“I need to turn it into an art gallery in nine days.”
He purses his lips. “Square footage?”
“Figure twenty-five hundred.”
He scrubs his wide palm over his face, a gesture I have seen thousand times.
“Yeah, sure. We can do that.”
My mom gathers him in a grateful squeeze.
“My hero!” she exclaims.
“Yeah, you guys are pretty okay,” I smile, watching them embrace each other so naturally, so affectionately.
Again, guilt tries to get in, but I just won’t let it. Have I really been away this long?
“You’ll stay here? With us?” my mom asks hopefully.
“Actually…” I begin carefully, “the cabin? Do you think I could—”
“Oh!” my mom immediately gasps. “My my, of course! It would be nice to get it cleaned up anyway. You haven’t been there in years!”
The cabin is just another tiny house, actually my parents’ first house. It’s only three rooms at the end of one of the few streets in town. It’s where the sidewalk literally ends, just a simple A-frame house that sits on a hill and looks out over the ocean.
We used to go there on vacations when I was a kid, even though it’s really only a few blocks away from here. They just couldn’t let it go for sentimental reasons, even after my dad built this place.
“I really glad you’re home,” my mom whispers, choking back tears.
“Me too,” I answer honestly, though I really shouldn’t tell her it’s only for a few more days.
