The Way Home From St. Joe

Stella and I drove up to St. Joe last weekend. We listened to my ipod and sang most of the way, in between my pulling answers to Stella's four year old philosopher questions out of my ass. We stopped at the grocery store to buy Hazel some hazelnut coffee creamer, a package of her favorite coffee, and some Little Suzie Honey Buns, her favorite.

When we got to Walt's, Hazel's entire family was there eating Walt's famous chili eggs. Basically scrambled eggs with some leftover chili added, served with a drizzle of ketchup on top. He even made me a TVP one in a small pan. Aww.

We had a nice time. It was the first time Walt, Hazel and I had been together since Murray's death. But it didn't feel weird at all. Could be the skills I'm learning in Dialectical Behavior Therapy. Could be the one-on-one counseling Sara and I have been doing. Could be the massages and the hot baths and the playing with my kid. Could be fooling around with my husband. Could be the Sertraline or Clonazepam. Could be the ipod and the singing. But it was the first time I drove home from St. Joe after a family gathering without crying. Being ignored. Missed chances. Wrong words said. Nothing said. Empty reminiscing. I felt none of that this time. I just felt like I was making a trip back to the family I have made for myself as an adult: Hank and Stella and Hank's relatives. And despite the magnetic pull I felt leading me back to my husband and home, I simultaneously felt close to the family of my past. The family I shared so many good and bad and everything in between times with when I was just finding my way in the world.

I unplugged the ipod when we took the exit off the interstate to our home. It was late. Was it Sunday? I drove home slowly with the windows cracked, smelling the baking bread down the street at the Wonder Bread factory. Stella had passed out in her booster seat by the time we got to Faucett and saw the big truck up in the air.

As I pulled closer to our house I saw some familiar vehicles. I pulled into my spot and shut off the car. I grabbed my bag, my kid, and walked up to the porch. The door was partially open so I just tapped it to enter.

I could hear them jamming downstairs. My new family. Singing and playing and laughing and reminding me what life's really about.