It’s been two and a half years, almost to the day.
My hands are clammy and I am fidgeting with the big turquoise ring on my right ring finger. I love this ring. It’s one of the oldest pieces of jewelry I own, something I purchased with my own money from a job I got myself, in a city neither of my parents had lived in before. I purchased it at a store with a kind-of “Abercrombie for hippies” vibe called Urban Outfitters.
The stone is real, and huge and just this side of gaudy. I wear it almost daily, even now. Gosh, those were the days, when I was young and having fun and wasting my potential, secure in the knowledge that I had time to figure out my life.
Watching the trees pass by out the window, I strain to see behind them. Every few seconds, if I purposely blur my vision just so, I think I can see through the forest. I’ve become very good at games like this. They help to distract my mind from what’s happening, where I’m going and why.
We are pulling into the driveway now. I take a deep breath and put a hand on my belly to steady myself. “You can do this”, I whisper. Most of the car ride, when my gaze is not on the trees, my eyes are down, concentrated on my hands, my lap, my feet, anything but the route. I feel like a young girl who is waiting to be disciplined, anxious of what’s to come and fighting back tears.
I only drive this way to see my dad, and this time I know he will not be there at the door to greet me. This visit to his house where we shared so many special moments will be different. The beautiful white house he built. Soon it will belong to someone else – to strangers. I do not want to enjoy the scenery, or to recognize the landmarks, or smile at the familiar small-town shops as we make this dirge, my little family and I. So I look down, and I take deep breaths and I fiddle with my gaudy turquoise ring.
*******************************
Attitude Soup 