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Alison Jane, or AJ as we’ve all called her since elementary school, is two years behind me. She’s the seventh and eighth grade math teacher, as well as the cheer coach, at the junior high. I knew from the moment she was old enough to read to our younger sisters that AJ was our tutor, the nurturer in the family.
One quick year after AJ was born came Meghan. While she wasn’t the first Summer sister to get married (that was Lexi), I truly believe Meghan will be the next. Josh and Meghan became a couple three years ago while I was still living in Cleveland with the douche who shall remain nameless. They go everywhere together. Hell, I’m surprised he’s not sitting inside on a barstool watching us play mini-golf right now. Josh is a great guy and worships the ground Meg walks on. If it wasn’t so sickeningly sweet, I’d almost be a little jealous.
Almost.
Finally, to round out the Summer clan, we have Abby and Lexi. The twins came along when I was just starting kindergarten. They’re as identical in looks as you can get, but complete opposite in personality. Where one is outgoing and bubbly, the other prefers books and quiet. Lexi is married to her high school sweetheart, Chris, who is rarely in attendance at any family function, let alone stopping by at the end of Girls’ Night.
But one thing’s for sure, no one ever miss our monthly sisters’ evening.
The gatherings started while I was in Cleveland, but turned into a regular monthly appointment in my calendar when I returned to town. I liked living in the Midwestern city, but, admittedly, never really felt at home like I do in Jupiter Bay. For the longest time, I thought that all I needed was Gavin, and I was content anywhere I went. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same way.
As we wrap up our game and order another round, Josh finally makes his predictable appearance at the bar. Meghan practically sprints towards him as he steps through the door, the smile on her face radiating delight.
And I’m truly happy for her. I’m pleased for all of my sisters, even the ones who have yet to find love. They’re independent, fierce, and loyal. They forge their own way, even when life tries to keep them down. Lord knows we’ve had enough heartache to last a lifetime, but it doesn’t seem to be holding any of them back.
Maybe it’s time to take a page from their book and focus on the here and now. I’m here, without Gavin, and that’s how my life is going to be. There’s no use crying over spilled milk. It’s time to pick up the pieces and move forward.
I make a mental checklist of the things I want to accomplish by the time I’m thirty later this year. A new checklist. One that doesn’t include weddings and babies, but includes simpler things like learn how to grill a steak (something I have yet to master) and repaint my bedroom furniture. Easy tasks that I’ll be able to proudly check off, essentially getting myself back in my groove. I also make sure to add a no dating clause to the checklist. The last thing I need is to step into something sticky right now, so fresh out of my breakup. Sure it was six months ago, but that’s okay. Slow and steady, that’s key.
It’s not going to be easy, moving on, but it’s necessary. And as I gaze at my smiling sisters, I make myself a promise to help them find their happiness. Even if I don’t see mine anywhere on the horizon, I can make sure theirs is within their grasp.
My one chance to live my dream–marriage, babies, PTA meetings–is a thing of the past. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe that dream wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Maybe it wasn’t for me. Maybe I’ll find a new dream that’s bigger and better than the one before.
And maybe I’m completely full of shit.
