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Should be fun.
The six of us live in Jupiter Bay, Virginia, a small coastal town along the Chesapeake Bay that fills with tourists during the summer months. Our father, Brian, still lives in the home we all grew up in, but one person has been noticeably absent since I was eleven years old. Our mom, Trisha, passed away from ovarian cancer, leaving behind her husband and six young daughters. It was a difficult time, but not the most heartbreaking I’ve endured, unfortunately.
As horrific as it was to have a parent die at such a young age, we were never alone. Our mom’s parents, Emma and Orval, moved in to help. Dad is a pilot and would often work long hours, which left six girls in need of care. That’s why our grandparents stepped up and played a pivotal role in our lives. They were there when we all needed them most, which was a huge relief to our dad. Of course, what he couldn’t have been prepared for was the inappropriate amount of groping and PDA that was to follow their arrival in our home.
And age hasn’t slowed them down one bit.
Well into their eighties, and they’re still as frisky and ornery as ever.
We’re a close family who has shared our fair share of heartache; something I know all too well, but also something I’m not going to dwell on tonight. I’m actually having a good night, laughing and joking with my sisters. The last thing I need is to feel the return of the heavy weight settling into my chest.
“I don’t understand this,” Payton whispers as she tries to wind her turquoise string around her nails in the pattern displayed on the paper in front of her.
“Your string is knotting,” I instruct, reaching across the table and taking her balled-up mess. “You need to keep it wound around the cardboard so it doesn’t tangle,” I add, rewrapping it around the small piece of cardboard.
“Any name ideas, Jaime?” Abby asks as she continues to wrap her string, a bright pink flower taking shape.
“We can’t agree on anything for a girl. I really like Faith,” she says with a wide smile as she rubs her belly.
“That’s adorable,” I reply, handing back the straightened out string to my oldest sister.
“I love it. He doesn’t like the name?” Payton asks, jumping right back in to stringing her flower.
“He likes Jasmine. Jasmine! She’ll either be a Disney Princess or a stripper!” Jaime proclaims loudly, making us all giggle. “I can’t name my daughter Jasmine, guys. Everywhere she goes I’ll hear the Aladdin soundtrack.”
“Well, that’s better than the soundtrack to Independence Day,” AJ offers with a laugh, referring to Will Smith’s girlfriend in the movie, who was a stripper named Jasmine.
“Seriously. Who names their daughter Jasmine?” Jaime huffs.
“It’s not a bad name,” I insist, finishing up my flower in record time.
Jaime exhales and winces. “This baby uses my kidneys as punching bags. And no, it’s not a bad name. I suppose it could even be a perfectly acceptable name, you know, if you were a burlesque dancer.”
“What about boy names?” Abby asks, completing her flower as well.
“Actually, that’s the one name we’ve settled on.”
“Oh? Spill!” AJ insists.
“Henry.”
“What? No! You can’t name your baby Henry. We’re using Henry!” Lexi declares, her string art all but forgotten.
“You know you’re having a boy?” I ask, quickly loving the idea of having another nephew.
Lexi stumbles. “Well, no, actually, we don’t know, but we decided on Henry. We have H names.”
“You’re calling dibs on the name because it begins with an H?” Jaime asks, exasperated.
“Yes. Pick a new name,” Lexi insists.
“No. You pick a new name,” Jaime argues.
“Why are you being so difficult?” Lexi inquires, glaring at our sister.
“I’m being difficult? Why don’t you just pick a new name? There are dozens of other H names to choose from. Why not Herbert or…Harry?”
“We like Henry,” Lexi growls.
