When Are You?
Once in awhile, something major happens—the loss of a loved one, the birth of a child, the lay off, the big promotion—nudging you to glance at the clock and check if you’re any closer to someday. You feel a new, even if fleeting, sense of urgency to swipe hold of joy, to be really in it, lest you miss it.
Fishbowl
We were at a Waffle House, probably on the road to or from somewhere, but I don't remember. To the server, I probably looked like your average pre-teen having breakfast with her parents and younger sister. We sat two by two at a four-top by the window. The symmetry was beginning to feel familiar enough, even though I still sometimes felt like I was sinking in the hole my brother left behind when my parents sent him across the country to a boarding school for emotionally troubled teens.
We were a family broken, but we did our best to pretend otherwise as often as possible. At least I did. I didn’t like talking about it. I didn’t like thinking about what was wrong with us.
“So we want to talk to you girls about something,” my Dad said.