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THE PAST
SCAR, AGE 13
"Hey kiddo, could you come down here for a sec?" My mom's voice echoed through the house.
"On my way!" I hollered back, reluctantly leaving the masterpiece I'd spent the last five hours crafting for Seth's Christmas present.
It's a painting of the three of us drenched from our parasailing experience in Florida. Every detail was carefully crafted, from the drops of water on our faces to the expressions of pure joy and excitement. The memory is so vivid and confirmed that I can almost feel the cool water rushing around me and the sun's warmth on my skin.
It is a cherished memory that I hold dear, one that brings a smile to my face whenever I feel like life is slipping away.
Broke as a joke, I couldn't buy him anything, but I figured a heartfelt DIY token would be the next best thing. As my excitement built for Seth's arrival on Christmas Eve, I bounded down the stairs to see what Mom wanted.
I slid my fingers along the banister, swooping around the cap at the bottom to fling myself straight into the kitchen. There was Mom buzzing around the stove, up to her elbows in deliciousness.
My eyes fixed on the freshly baked cookies cooling on the rack on the table. Anticipation built up inside me as I took in the sweet aroma. Suddenly, my mom's voice broke through my cookie trance.
“Sweetie, could you lend your dad a hand setting the table?"
"Yep," I replied, reluctantly tearing my gaze away from the snowman cutout cookies.
"Don't you think about it, young lady!" Mom playfully warned. I glanced up, catching her sly smile.
"Okay, okay," I conceded, rolling my eyes as I headed off to join Dad in the dining room.
“Hey, Doodlebug. You come to help your old man?” He winked and set down the holiday golden square plates.
I couldn’t help but giggle as I grabbed the red and green cloth napkins from the cupboard. “It's an unspoken rule: no helping, no cookies for me.”
Dad laughed, finding my absurd theories amusing.
“How is your gift for your brother coming along?”
“It’s actually done,” I said proudly, setting the silverware on top of the napkins.
I had been living and breathing this project for days on end, fueled by a new favorite memory. It started last summer when Mom and Dad took Seth, me, and Maverick to Florida. We were living our best lives, soaking up the sun and having a blast. Mom captured the perfect moment on camera of us three grinning from ear to ear, still buzzing from our parasailing adventure. Thankfully, Skylar was far away, visiting her mother and stepfather so she couldn’t ruin the moment.
"Wow, you’ve worked on it for weeks." Dad gasped in amazement. "I'm sure he'll love it."
"I really hope so."
Setting the glasses down, Dad walked over to me and pulled me into a warm embrace. "He's incredibly proud of you, kiddo. I know he'll treasure it." He planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.
I hugged him back tightly. "Thank you, Daddy."
The sound of the front door opening was quickly followed by Seth's boisterous holler. "Honey, I'm home!"
Dad and I laughed as we greeted him in the entryway. My heart fluttered like a butterfly when I spotted Maverick beside him, carrying a single bag on his shoulder. With the Alpine Stars beanie snugly covering his short brown hair and his favorite tan military cargo jacket adding a touch of rugged style, he oozed an air of confidence and charm that was hard to resist. When his gaze met mine, it was like a thousand fireworks lit up in his eyes. Well, not exactly a real fireworks show, but you catch my drift.
Maverick shot me a playful wink and called out, "Hey, Tink."
I felt a sudden rush of warmth to my cheeks as I waved in response, but before I could reply, Seth scooped me up like I was as light as a feather and spun me around. "What's shakin', Skittles?" Seth beamed, his infectious grin spreading from ear to ear.
As he placed me back on the ground, I asked, "Shaking?"
"He's had one too many energy drinks," quipped Maverick with a smirk.
"Energy drinks, huh?" Dad questioned, barely holding in a chuckle.
