Page 8 of Three Not-So-Little Words
Dad turns to me. “I went ahead and brought your car to the house, and your mom dropped off the rest of your stuff.”
I giggle. “How happy was she to get all that crap out of her house?”
“Oh, you know your mom.”
“Yes, I do–which is why I know she probably threw a fucking party. She probably whistled the whole time she moved it all. Like one of the seven fucking dwarves.”
He starts cracking up. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know your mother can’t whistle. She sang.”
My parents are complete opposites. My dad is very sweet, very understanding. He goes with the flow.
Mom, on the other hand, is a force of nature. She's small in stature, but she takes no shit from anyone. She may not always be the most affectionate, but she would go to war for any of her kids–or her grandkids for that matter. She’s the one who always tells us what weneedto hear rather than what we’dliketo hear.
Between the two of them, they provided the perfect environment for us to grow up in.
I ask, “How’s everyone been doing around here?”
“Pretty good.”
In the next few minutes, I learn that my oldest sister, Liz, has been busy running her inn and taking care of her one-year-old daughter, Beth.
Michelle, next in line, is trying to find new hobbies and constantly battling her teenage daughter, Eve.
Dylan and his girlfriend, Leah, are spoiling their six-month-old daughter, Luna.
I talk to all of my siblings pretty regularly, but lately, it seems the conversations have been cut a little short for one reason or another.
“Remind me not to drink the water,” I say. “Wouldn’t want to end up infected with a baby.”
“Ronnie, I think the acceptable term ispregnant.”
“Mine is more accurate.”
“Youneverwant to have kids?” He asks like he doesn’t already know the answer.
“Dad, I have a butt-load of money and a rockin’ body. Why would I want to give that up?”
“Oh, my little Veronica. Always my crazy girl.”
I count on my fingers. “You forgot a kid. What about Jo? Dear God, please say she’s not pregnant.”
Jo is the youngest of the Lawson kids. She’s seven years younger than Dylan and myself. We call her the accident–which got us in trouble many, many times.
“No, Jo isn’t pregnant. Well, not that I know of anyway. She is still all over the place. But she’s in town for the wedding.”
“I’m excited to see everyone.”
“They’re excited to see you too.”
After a while of more small talk, we hit the town of Lilly Leaf Falls, and I gaze out the window.
I’ve always felt like I’ve lived two lives. In one, I travel the world, photographing the most gorgeous things you can imagine. I love getting all dolled up and enjoying the finer things. In the other life, I’m just a small-town girl. This town may be quaint enough to be in a Thomas Kinkaid painting, but it’s always been my all-time favorite place to be.
Somehow, I fit into both of these lives.
I can slide seamlessly between the two of them without missing a beat.
As much as I love being on the road and seeing all the beautiful things the world has to offer, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than my hometown.
