Page 138 of Our Long Days
“Love, you’re my hero. Now, give me a kiss and let’s get out of here.”
We hightail it into the front seats and peel out of the driveway. Somehow, we make it with two minutes to spare, and once the girls are unbuckled, they dash to the back of Florence and Dex’s cabin.
We’re close behind.
My best friend spies my fatigued face. With his twins dangling off his arms, Dex plucks a beer out of the cooler and passes it to me. “You look like you need this.”
The fucker makes being a girl dad look easy. Jokes on him, though, because once they reach the precious teenage years, I’ll be the one laughing. It was only last week Lottie told me I’d ruined her life.
Apparently, I looked at her funny.
“Nice of you to join us.” My sister smirks while fanning herself with a magazine.
We’re the last ones here, and along with our hosts, we join the others around the small campfire, ready to light once the sun goes down.
The kids splash in the lake then spray the adults with water pistols. We catch up and share memories, and before we know it, the blue sky fades to a deep purple. The orange flames of the fire flicker under the twilight.
In a circle, the eight of us sit around the campfire. The kids are inside, with Lottie watching the younger ones.
Me and my siblings share a look.
Florence is already wiping away her tears, and I touch a hand to her shoulder, telling her to go first.
Dex helps her stand, the letter gripped between trembling fingers. With a shaky breath, she starts.
“Hey, Daddy. It’s me, Florence.”
We all listen intently, not a dry eye in sight.
Today marks fifteen years since we lost our dad. The four of us honored his memory by following in his footsteps and writing him a letter.
Florence tells him about her and Dex’s three beautiful girls, with one on the way. How she’s still making her lists. How every day, she finds something to be proud of, no matter how tough things are.
Booth is next. He talks about all the places he’s visited around the world with Aly, and that at the restaurant named after him, there’s a two-seater table in the corner, always with a sign that readsReserved for Ted.
Graham shares a short poem then goes on to say how much of our dad he sees in Ethan. He talks about the light Quinn brought into his life and how, even to this day, she finds new ways to surprise him.
Then, it’s my turn.
I tell my dad Our Place is doing better than ever. I share stories of our girls and their different personalities. I let him know Mom’s okay. With Johanna and three beautiful children in my life, the puzzle’s complete.
As planned, we drop the letters into the fire.
Hand in hand, my siblings and I watch the embers float up to the stars and dance in the wind, hopeful our dad hears us.
Our loved ones wait for us with open arms.
“Pat,” Johanna says through her tears. “He would’ve loved that.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” I stare up at the twinkling lights before looking back down at my wife. “Thank you for building this beautiful life with me, love.”
“There’s a lot more left to build.” She smiles.
“You’ll always be mine, right?”
“I’m yours. Forever, Patrick Sadler.”
In a small town tucked between towering pine trees and crashing waves, eight people share one thing.
They’re family.
They’re loved.
They’re happy.
The end.
***
