Allow me to paint the picture for you. I am now being sent to a dark, candle lit room. The wanna be Stevie Nicks has to have about seven different incense’s burning, and I have to say, I do believe they were all different. The scent was pretty over powering in the “living room”, back in this room, I just cannot do it. “Gypsy” moves her arm in a way to where I know she wants me to take a seat. Reluctantly I obliged.

With only a small round cafe sort of table separating us, she brings out crystals, cards, and something that I am guessing is sage. Although at this point, who is to say? Maybe it is sage. She is “cleansing” the cards, as I am trying to take in my surroundings. I see nothing. Between the smoke from the sage, the burning incense, and the faint smell of curry, I could not see a damn thing, other than Gypsy eyeing me a little too closely.

“What is you name?”

And so it begins. This woman is about to do some weird reading for me, because she can predict the future and what-not. Why is she asking me my name? Shouldn’t she already know my name?

“Elizabeth.”

“What questions do you have for me?”

I make myself comfortable. I have a feeling this may take a while.

“Before you start doing whatever it is you are about to do, do you mind if I ask a question?”

I may have seen her roll her eyes, but I cannot be certain.

“Go ahead.”

“Well, I would like to know of you have any reviews, or perhaps credentials handy?”

With a perfect rolling of the tongue, Miss Gypsy looks at me as if I may be her next victim she has displayed on her kitchen entry wall.

“Credentials? I do not understand what you ask?”

She is going to make me work for it.

“You know, like is there some sort of certificate or diploma of sorts? Something that states you are legitimately what you say you are and not some sort of scammer. Or even some reviews by some of your, what do you call them, customers, clients, you know what I mean.”

Gypsy starts laying about 4-5 cards on the table.

“I not understand what you mean? This is free reading.”

“Oh, is it free because you need the practice?”

She looks up at me while flipping a card over. I mean is this her personal version of solitaire or something?

“Elizabeth, you insult Gypsy.”

“No no, not trying to insult. All I am trying to do is get a feel for who you are. I mean if you are about to give me a reading, then I would at least like to know you have something to back up what you are saying. You know, proof.”

Now she flipped a second card over.

“Proof?” Life is not about proof. Life is about purpose.”

Christin is going to owe me big for this one.

“Of course everyone has a purpose. I believe that, I also believe that we are not meant to know our purpose from some stranger that is sitting across a table from us.”

She flips a third card over.

“Why you here wasting my time.”

“I do not know why I am here, Christin made me come here!”

I motion to the room where I had left Christin.

She flips a fourth card.

“I see, this card, this explains everything. Eight of cups you see. Sadness and sense of solitude. This is why, how you say, this is why you a bitch.”

“Excuse me??”

“Ah yes. You have a sense of relentlessness and unhappiness. The other part not matter, this explains so much.”

“Did you just do a reading on me without my permission?”

She looks up and smiles. This would be the first and last time I see her smile.

“I did.”

“You cannot do that. I was not ready, I did not even see your credentials!”

“Again with the credentials.”

She starts packing up her cards.

“Wait a minute. What are you doing? Now you’re packing up, you read these card things when I was not even ready, you mention something about unhappiness, and now you are finished?”

Gypsy stops what she is doing. Stands up from her chair and motions me to the beaded curtain.

“We are finished.”

“Uh, you may be finished, I am not finished!”

I followed her out while listening to her mutter something about credentials. Funny how she magically looses the accent, right?

“That’s fine. I am good. It’s not like you are legit anyways!”

Finally. There’s Christin. Why the hell was she outside? I could have used some backup here.

Gypsy is now ignoring me, while going to give Christin a hug.

“Your friend, Elizabeth, she on spiritual journey, Elizabeth have no satisfaction with world,or things that she familiar with.”

Christin give me “the look” while I ignore both of them while spotting Nicks.

“Whatever, can we go now, and I would like to take your cat with me.”

Gypsy makes her way back into her dungeon, while turning back.

“Take him, he not belong to me.”

That’s all I needed to hear. I made my way to the car, with Nicks in tow and Christin closely following. Nicks sprawled out in the backseat, most likely aware of the fact that I just saved him from this crazy broad. Christin got situated behind the wheel, and I knew what was coming.

“Jen, why was she calling you Elizabeth? And before you go into some long explanation, I need you to find the closest Wal-Mart.”

“Wal-Mart? Why are we going to Wal-Mart, you owe me a drink!”

Jen joined the Stevie Nicks look-alike in the other room as I looked down at my phone. A text message from Freddie…I was scared to see what it said. Our last communication was pretty much me not returning his calls or messages. I had my own reasons to not want to talk to him. That was a year ago, and now here I was getting ready to open Pandora’s Box…again.

“Who is this?” the text message read. I wasn’t surprised. I had changed my number in the midst of ghosting him last year. “It’s Christin”, I typed. I wasn’t really sure what to say beyond that. I put my phone away, not wanting to deal with this complex, drawn out situation at the moment. I had bigger, more urgent issues to worry about, like how I was going to have pry that black cat out of Jen’s arms when she came out of the Patchouli room.

I stepped outside for a moment, inhaling the salty, cool air. The sky was clear this night. You could see every star in the sky. I spotted Cassiopeia and the big dipper amongst the maze of lights. For just a moment, my thought returned to Freddie. What was that? I heard something. Loud voices were coming from the house. I walked back in to hear something about credentials. Oh great, Jen was debating with the psychic about her credentials and legitimacy. I listened closely, making sure Gypsy wasn’t putting performing some kind of weird ritual on Jen, while checking out the weird art on the walls. Gothic animal shapes and bizarre pictures of Egyptians filled the walls, top to bottom. . The only exception was a picture of a handsome young man standing in front of the house that was neatly tucked into this collage of bizarreness. I heard voices and footsteps coming towards the front of the house and suddenly Jen and Gypsy appeared through the barrage of beads.

“I don’t believe this is legit, I want to see your credentials!”

“My credentials? What are you talking about?”

At this point I had one foot out the door, but this innocent visit with the psychic took a turn, that Gypsy the psychic nor I could not have foreseen.

I cannot believe Christin. As she is back in some sort of dark patchouli smelling room, that I am pretty confident at one time or another was used for a torture chamber, getting some psychic reading from a throw back to Stevie Nicks “person”, I am here in….well…I do not even know where I am. Perhaps the living room?

The incense is so overpowering I feel like I may be at stage two lung cancer status, and I cannot see a damn thing other than weird shape animal pictures oddly displayed on the wall. You better believe that I have 911 on speed dial ready to go at the first sound of an animal sacrifice. Only Christin. Somewhere along the way Christin and I turned into the ghetto Lucy and Ethel.

I wonder if the Stevie Nicks throw back has any credentials displayed anywhere on her animal wall. I mean when I am in my doctor’s office, his credentials are easily found. Hell, even when I get a cheap 10.99 haircut at Supercuts, their credentials are displayed. This place? Not so much.

Wait…..did I just see a cat???

I did see a cat, I hope it is a cat……it has to be a cat. He just ran under the sofa. Seriously, how many Afghans can one person have?

“Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

A beautiful black cat with a huge patch of white on his neck, peeked around from behind the sofa. “Awwwww, a cat! Come here kitty!”

I named him Nicks. Nicks came out, just purring away. Hmmmm, I wonder how Christin would feel about Nicks joining us on our trip? I scooped Nicks up while holding him in the way one holds a newborn. I am in love.

As I basking in the moment of meeting my new friend, I decided to look around. What was with all the weird animal pictures? I don’t get it. My worst fear that sooner than later Nicks would be an image on the wall. “Well, we cannot allow that to happen now can we?”

Wait. What is that? An actual normal picture of a person? Nicks jumped out of my arms as I make my way to the wall right next to the kitchen entry. A black and white picture of a young twenty something year old guy caught my attention. The picture was completely centered , surrounded by, what else, weird animal shapes. This young guy is standing in what looked like to be the front yard of this house…..and his eyes……there was something about his eyes. There is definitely a story here. Who is he? Maybe Gypsy’s son?

I glanced back at the dungeon that held Christin and the Stevie Nicks wanna be, nothing. I wonder, hmmmm, let me just see if there is anything on the back of the picture………”Jen your turn!”

Dammit Christin! Is she really going to make me go back there? Ugh! I gave her “the look” while following the scent patchouli, and figured, since I decided that Nicks would now be joining us, the least I can do is have a reading done.

And there it was. A little, white, run down house with a small flashing sign that read “psychic.”

“C’mon, let’s just go, it will be fine.”

“What?! I am not going in there, have you lost your mind?”

Well technically, yes I had. I was on a road trip driving 1,000 miles to see the first love that I hadn’t seen in 15 years. What do you think?

“We can go to that little bar after, and I will buy you some drinks—but you HAVE to come with me…Pleassse!”

Jen knew she was in a losing battle on this one. I could bring up the many times she dragged me into crazy situations. Now it was her turn. We walked in the dimly lit house. The overwhelming smell of patchouli hit my senses hard and quick. There were lit candles everywhere along with pictures of weird animal-like shapes. We continued walking until we reached a gold beaded curtain that led into another, much smaller room.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea Jen.” I whispered.

She gave me the “I told you so” look that I have seen at least a hundred times.

“Let’s get out here then!” She whispered back to me while digging her phone out of her purse.

“What are you taking your phone out for?”

“In case I have to dial 911 for help!”

Oh boy. Maybe this was a bad idea. We could die here and nobody would ever find our bodies. Once we entered into the other room an older lady dressed as what I can only describe as half hippie and half “genie in a bottle” like. She smiled and invited both Jen and I to have a seat. I looked over at Jen as she peered back at me with a death stare.

“Hi my name is Gypsy, what can I do for you ladies?”

“Well, umm, we are not really sure. We were just passing through and stopped on a whim. What is it that you do exactly?”

“I can tell the future. I use tarot cards, palm reading and my intuition to tell people what’s in store for them. I prescribe to a belief called Wiccan”

I took a deep breath and another glimpse over at Jen. She wasn’t sold on this one but I knew if I got her this far, she would go through with it.

“Okay…well, I guess I would like to do a tarot card reading”

“Could you have a seat out there please?” She pointed to another room while looking at Jen. You didn’t have to tell her twice. Jen grabbed up her purse and practically jogged out of the room.

“Okay, what is your name?”

“Christin.”

“What questions do you have for me?”

Damn, I hadn’t really thought this through.

“Umm, ok-k, so I am currently trying to get in touch with an ex for one last conversation or closure—whatever you want to call it. I’ve been trying to get him out of my thoughts for years now… Is this a good idea or do I just need to let it go?”

“Close your eyes and concentrate on your ex and the questions that you have. Feel the energy flow through you from your head to your toes while breathing in and out slowly.”

I felt a tickle on the top of my hands which bolted me from my concentration. Gypsy had placed something on top of my hands but I was scared to peek, so I squeezed them tighter, hoping it wasn’t pig blood or something crazy like that. I heard her shuffling her cards while I continued to concentrate on the question with my eyes closed but also mapping out an escape route, if need be.

“Open your eyes, Christin”

I slowly opened one eye, then the other.

“I sensed you needed your energy cleansed, so I placed my crystals on your hands to help with the negative energy that surrounds you”

The only negative energy I would dealing with was that of my soon to be ex-friend Jen, if we didn’t get out of here soon…and alive. Gypsy then places 4 cards on the table. The look of worry and concern flashed across her face for just a moment.

“What is it? Is it bad??”

“Just a moment?”

The suspense was killing me. A moment felt like a year. Was it so bad that she couldn’t tell me?

“Okay, this card here” she said, pointing at the Seven of swords, card, “means that there is the potential of bad feelings and maybe a feeling of being cheated. There is a failure of a plan because of the wrong motive.”

This was not looking good. I should’ve listened to Jen. And if she is voice of reason, I really must be crazy.

“This card is the Six of Swords, it means a difficult choice could need to be made that may involve great changes”

Well, could you be more specific? I’m an indecisive person, choosing what flavor of coffee I want could fall into this category. Of course, I didn’t say that. But maybe she read my mind because she looked up at me with an “all-knowing” look.

“The five of Pentacles mean that differences arise that could divide lovers. Periods of deep loneliness could occur”

Great. Just when I thought the news couldn’t get any better, she explained to me the last cards meaning.

“Knight of Swords means that you should be careful in sharing your views. Unexpected misfortune could be near”

“What does all of that mean exactly?”

“Christin, you need to be careful about your future actions when it comes to your ex. Things aren’t always as they seem. I’ m not telling you what to do or not to do but your cards indicate that you need to be cautious.”

“OK” She took the crystals off my hands.

“Thank-you” I said while grabbing my purse.

I stood up and walked out to where Jen was.

“Your turn” I said with a touch of sarcasm. She returned the favor with a nasty look as she went through the curtain. I sat down, reflecting on what Gypsy just told me. All I know for sure is that I need a Long island iced tea to forget this ever happened.

I pulled out my phone. I had a new text message.

It was Freddie.

As soon as I saw Christin outside of the diner, I knew what she was doing. Christin’s phone was in her hand, and  she had a text message ready to go to Freddie. I have the luxury of her not seeing me, and because I am such an awesome friend, I figured I can do this one of two ways. I can keep my distance and let her do this whole text message thing on her own, or I can run up and scare the shit out of her, to distract her from sending the message. Although the latter would be funny, I decided to light up a quick smoke and just wait it out before we finish the next leg of out trip. Or…maybe not.

“BOO!”

“Jesus Christ Jen, You scared the shit out of me!”

“Yeah, that’s what I was going for……whatcha doing there with your phone?”

Christin did not take the bait.

“Just get your things, we have a five-hour drive ahead of us.”

“This just keeps getting better and better.”

We were off. Five hours of highway ahead of us. Oh fun! That’s me being sarcastic, in case you missed it.

One would think five hours on the open road, your best friend by your side, a perfect playlist securely in your purse, would be the ideal mini vacation. See, I do not work like that. I need a plan. I need a time line. I need to know what the objective is. I need to know when we get to stop for food, and I need to be able to pick out the places we stop for said food. Adapting to Christin’s “The world is our oyster” belief takes some getting used to. Just as my spread sheets and timeframe took her some getting used to.

Four and a half hours later we are still in Oregon somewhere. All I knew is we were heading to some beach town to find a Motel 6 type of spot for our resting place. This is my first time outside of my busy yet comfortable suburb of Seattle. I know I am here for Christin, yet, there is something in this for me. I need a break. I need to recompose. I just need time away. I need to learn to relinquish my control.

“We need to stop for gas.”

In between our conversation of life,  goals, sex, and lack there of, Christin informed me that we needed gas pretty soon or else we would be pushing her jeep to this little beach town that she was adamant we reach.

“Good, I need a coffee, or vodka, so depending on where this gas station is, pick your poison!”

I put my notebook away and took my wallet out. The cool Oregon saltwater air welcomed us to….well…..to some rundown shady looking gas station called “Earl’s” Seriously, only two gas pumps? I had the feeling that in about eight minutes Christin and I would turn into some horribly bad Lifetime Movie of the Week plot. Whatever, I needed to stretch my legs, and smoke.

“I’ll pump you go and pay.”

Christin was already at the pump before I could protest that I did not want to go into “Earl’s” by myself. I was fighting a loosing battle, and in a few minutes, I had a feeling I would be fighting with Earl himself. There was no freaking coffee!

I met Christin back at the jeep, lit up a much-needed smoke, while she gave me “the look” that told me I should probably step back from the jeep as she is pumping gas.

“So, what now? How much further?”

Both of us took in our surroundings. Both of us noticed a run down motel just across the street.

“Oh God no, Christin, no, not here. This is right out of The Hills Have Eyes.”

“But did you see the bar, there is a bar next to the hotel….come on, just for one night. Tomorrow we will be in San Jose.”

Well. Christin may be on to something. I mean if there is a bar, then the lack of coffee at “Earl’s” does not matter, I can get my vodka on!

“Jen, look!”

I was already halfway back in the jeep. What does she want me to look at now. A graveyard? A thrift store? There was no telling with……”No, do not even think about it….no no no!”

There it was. Across the way, another shady run down house, with half of a white picket fence around it.  There was a “Free Psychic Reading by Gypsy” sign hanging on the window. And…let the record show that the sign looked to be written by a child.

“Jen, we have to! It’s a sign, and more importantly, it’s free!”

It’s official. I am now in hell. Christin and I had two different beliefs on psychics, mediums, whatever the PC word of choice is. She believed in them, I thought they were a crock of shit. Yet, I knew, there was no way I was going to get out of this one.

“Can we at least go to our final resting place before you drag to me Gypsy’s? It will give me a chance to call my family and tell them my last good-byes.”

And then, before I knew it, without any coffee, without any vodka, we were there.

What would he say? What would I say? The questions kept running like a broken record inside my head. I looked over as Jen was scribbling away in her “notebook”. I wonder what she was writing in that thing. We had only been on the road for a couple hours, what could she have possibly documented so far?

“What are you writing in there?”

“Are you ready to stop yet, I’m hungry and my hypoglycemia is starting to kick in”

Way to dodge the question, Jen. Although the trip was my idea, I sensed that she was here for more than just moral support and a quick visit with Alphonso. Call it intuition or whatever, but she was on her own journey. To or from what, I wasn’t sure but I would find out, eventually.

I took the exit headed to downtown Portland. The skyscrapers lined the busy streets during lunch hour. We finally found a little hole-in-the-wall diner that claimed to have “the best shakes in town”. That was the deciding factor. We took our booth seat by the window. An older waitress came and took our order, which of course included “the best shake in town” for each of us.

“Have you even told Freddie you were coming down?”

“No, I haven’t talked to him in almost a year”

“You know you are going to have to text or call him eventually”, Jen replied sarcastically.

“Yeah, I know, I just don’t know what to say. What if he doesn’t even respond?”

“He will…you need to do it soon though. What do you want to get out of seeing him, anyways?”

Now that was a good question. “I don’t know, to be honest. I just need to see him one more time. Maybe for closure, maybe just to see what it’s like between us. Part of me hopes we could just pick up where we left off and another part of me wants to just close the door for good.”

In the back of mind though, I secretly wondered if I did see him, would the feelings come back or would they be null and void. I was hoping for the latter. Amidst my silent thoughts, our shakes and burgers arrived at the table. Jen looked relieved as she sucked down her chocolate shake.

“Have you talked to Alphonso yet?” I asked while popping a fry in my mouth.

“Not yet, maybe we should let him know we will be in town tomorrow” She pulled out her phone and dialed his number.

“Hello?” “Hey, it’s Jen and Christin here on speaker”

“Hey, what’s up you broke down bitches?”

Some things never change.

“We are going to be in town tomorrow…we need to get together!”

“Where are you guys staying?”

“At the Holiday Inn on Monterey Highway—we should do dinner tomorrow night”

“You guys are staying at that cockroach infested place?”

“We are on a budget, besides not all of us can afford Prada bags and Fendi Sunglasses like you!”

“Cheap asses. Text me your hotel room number and we can meet up. I gotta get back to work so hit me up later”

Jen ended the call. I couldn’t wait for the three of us to be together again. It had been at least 13 years. We finished our burgers and shakes. Jen made her way to the restroom as I went outside. It was cold and raining as I pulled my phone out. My fingers shook as I typed, “Hi, I’m going to be in town for a few days. Would you like to meet up for drinks or dinner?” I hesitated on hitting the send button. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. God knows I’ve had more than my share of those.

I saw Jen come out as she spotted me on the side of the building. She started to come towards me. It was now or never. I tapped the send button and took a big, deep, uncertain breath.

It was early. Too early. It was cold, rainy, and did I mention early? Christin would be here soon. How did I get myself into this? I am not a “let’s go on an adventure” type of girl. I enjoy my routine and do not do good with change. Yet, here I am in the early morning hours waiting for Christin to pick me up for an eight-day road trip. What the hell was I thinking?

I was ready to come home before I even left. Truth be told, I really had nothing stopping me. All my loose ends were tied up at home. There was no reason for me to not go, other than I hate the unknown, and I was pretty confident this trip would be filled with many unknowns.

This was not about me. It was about Christin. I knew she had to do this for her. She was still searching for answers. Not only searching, there was a part of her that could not completely move on without these answers. I wanted her to be ready that she may never get what she needed. This person, Freddie, he has a hold over her. Christin may not see it, Freddie sure as hell has no idea, but I see it. I am there with her, over coffee, or late night phone calls. I am her sounding ear when she asks me “What do you think?” I do not always know how to answer her. I do not know this guy, yet it looks like that is about to change. That’s why I had to do this with Christin. If it was not with me, it would be with someone else. Let’s face it, I know her friends. Clearly I was the best one suited for this little adventure. If not me, who knows if she would even make it to California. So, here I am, being the very good supportive friend that I am. I owed it to her, and in a small way, I owed it to myself. I was also on a journey. A journey that I did not forsee taking me down the west coast, but yes, there had to be more out there.

My five bags were safely sheltered under my patio from the pouring rain. How does one pack for California? From what Christin tells me it is always hot down there. Great. I despise the heat. I do not own a pair of shorts, hell, I do not even own a pair of capris. My five bags consisted of “lightweight boots” (Is there even such a thing?) and scarfs, makeup and, and notebooks. Plenty of notebooks.

Finally she pulled up. Before I even opened the door I could hear her weird music blasting from the jeep. I threw three of my bags where the trunk would (should) be, put out my cigarette and opened up the back passengers door. Without paying much attention I threw my backpack in the back, then took my place in the front seat with my purse and journal.

“Jen, be careful! “The Box” is back there.” It was still a little too early for me to fully comprehend what she was saying. I followed her eyes to the back seat, and there it was, right next to my backpack was her pink box, “The Box.” I knew right then and there, that this little road trip of ours means much more to her than it does me. I rummaged through my purse while saying a silent prayer to whomever it was that may be listening “Dear God she brought “The Box”. Please, for her own peace of mind, let this trip give her the answers that she needs. Let it give her closure. She needs the closure”

I found what I was looking for, took my cd out and hurriedly threw it out her. “Can we please listen to this? AC/DC Highway to Hell. Start with track number one and let it play through!”

She gave me “The Look” and I already knew without hearing the words that followed.

“Not yet.”

This was going to be a long trip. I situated myself, notebook in hand, and we were off.

“So….what time is lunch?”

I never got a reply.

We had been talking about it for a while. A road trip. Just Jen, me and the open road. The problem was timing. Our lives were busy. Kids, PTA, school…there was always something.

Finally, we found our window of opportunity. I was in charge of mapping out our destination and making sure we didn’t up in middle of the desert in Mexico. Jen was in charge of making sure we had music, although I had to make sure to throw some of my favorites in there I knew she wouldn’t, like 2pac and Jaheim.

The plan was to leave on a Saturday morning and return by the following Sunday. As I packed the jeep with the essentials: Butterfingers, water and chips; I couldn’t help but to feel excited. I didn’t know how this was all going to play out but I had waited over 10 damn years to find out.

It was 6:30am and luckily no traffic in sight. It would be a quick trip down to Federal Way to pick up Jen. Risking my life, I stopped for gas in Tacoma. As I bought a couple scratch tickets and a coffee, the bald, middle-aged gas station attendant struck up a conversation with me. “So, where ya headed this early on a Saturday morning?” “I’m headed to Federal Way to pick up a good friend and then we are headed to California.” “What’s in California?” That was the million dollar question. I left everything there more than a decade ago but would it still be there? Would it be the same—would he be the same. I didn’t know but soon I was going to find out. Oh yeah, and we would be meeting up with our old friend Alphonso.

Before I could stop myself, I excitedly began telling a complete stranger my life story. “So here’s the thing, I am meeting up with an ex after several years. He’s moved on and I have too but I feel like there was so many things left unsaid….I think that we both need one last conversation to clear up some stuff and just put the past in the past. But there’s just one small problem, he doesn’t know I am coming down and I’m not quite sure how to tell him. We haven’t spoken in quite a while—actually the truth is I stopped communicating with him because…well it’s complicated.”

Realizing I was getting too deep, I took another sip of my coffee and looked up. The gas station attendant’s looked as though he had been tortured while listening to my rendition of my insanity. I apologized for rambling and quickly gathered my coffee and tickets. “Have a safe trip” he said, but the look on his face was that of relief and the realization that he just had a conversation with a crazy person.

Maybe I was a little crazy for making this trip. I had imagined making this trip millions of times and now it was actually coming to fruition. The truth was, I didn’t know what was at the end of the road. Maybe it was a dead end or maybe it was just a road less traveled. Either way, I had to find out.

I pulled up to Jen’s apartment. She was waiting on the steps smoking a cigarette and checking herself in a pocket mirror. I parked and helped her put the 5 big, heavy bags in the back. From the looks of it, she may not be planning to come back. In true Jen fashion, she jumped in the front seat with her notebook. “What is that?” “I have to document everything”

Of course she did.

Just like that, we were on I-5 headed south.

I was standing there, alone, in the quiet morning hours. Both being  a rarity these days. Usually my tiny three bedroom apartment has someone always coming or going. Between my four children, husband, and brother-in-law, there is never any alone time. Until now. As Western Washington was bracing for a storm of a lifetime, my husband and children were out buying supplies. It was a certainty we would lose power. Just in time for my family to make their annual trip to Seattle. 

Facing my favorite wall in my apartment, I had nothing but  excitement about what the next three days would bring. In just a few hours, my family would be here. They were flying in from Texas, Virginia and San Diego. It had been two years since we were last together in my tiny Seattle apartment, and this year may very well be the last.

The wall. My favorite wall. Filled with wonderful tacky retro signs that welcomed each holiday. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentines Day, and Easter. These tacky knickknacks are  tacky to outsiders, to me they mean the world, and that is why I leave them up all year-long. My eyes darted to an “Enter if you Dare” retro Halloween sign. It is recklessly hung up with a push-pin. Behind it, is a white legal size envelope that holds our hopes, dreams and goals from two years ago, when we were last in my tiny apartment together.

Two years ago, in October of 2014, sitting at my rickety old dining room table, my family gathered together and each wrote where we would like to see ourselves in October of 2015. When our letters were safely sealed up, I scribbled “To be open in October 2015” on the outside. I took the “Enter if you Dare” sign down, pushed the push-pin through the envelope, and returned the sign to its proper place.

We were never able to read the contents of the legal size white envelope in October of 2015. Life got in the way, as it so often does, and not all of us were able to make it that year. Collectively, we all decided that the legal size white envelope would not be open unless we were all present. This year, this year would be it. Sometime over the next three days we will open the contents of the envelope, most likely around the same rickety old table where we were sitting at two years earlier. We will shed both tears of laughter and tears of sadness, as good byes are also hard.

First, we had three days of memories to make. Three days to make the short amount of time together count, three days to come up with more hopes and dreams to share with each other, and three days to document it all, because where this family is concerned, there is no telling what the next three days could bring.

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My family was scheduled to be at my apartment by two o’clock. They did not show up until three o’clock. I am sure they will argue this, however being that I am the one with the blog, we will just say that I am right. A minor concern was I was scheduled to pick up a beautiful lasagna from my local Italian eatery. I was scheduled to pick up this lasagna the same time the “storm of a lifetime” was scheduled to hit. I now had visions of me being trapped inside the cozy little Italian cafe bound and determined to save my lasagna. While my small suburb of Seattle town was being hit with 65 mph winds.

As excited as I was to see my family, I was also nervous. Three cups of coffee did nothing to calm my nerves, nor did my jack and coke. My family is beautiful. Time has stood still for them all. Me, not so much. My feelings of insecurity from a little girl, have always followed me throughout my adult life. Sometimes they are right there walking right beside me, others time they are a safe distance away. Today, today they were right in front me making me question everything. “Look at your apartment, it’s like a 16 year olds!” (I may have went overboard on the Halloween decorations) “Are you really wearing THAT?” (I like to think I can pull of the skinny jean look) “You do not have enough food, unless you are a five-year old.” (Well I am trying to go pick up lasagna!) No matter how old I get, I always want my family to be proud of me. Tacky decorations, sausage jeans, little kid food and all.

My husband and the kids made it back. I took my same spot at my crowded desk and decided to do a little Facebooking before my family showed up. I was scrolling through political post and food pictures when I got the text from my sister.

“Jen, we are here. Were do you want us to park?”

(to be cont.)