Late Bloomer

Mari

Had I not made this trip many times before, I might have been paralyzed by the plunging cliffs and sharp curves. Luckily for me, there was no snow. I’d timed it so the climb and descent of this pass would happen in the early afternoon hours, and the road was clear of ice and frost.

There was a blanket of fog hanging at the tips of the tree line, and the air had been extra crisp at my last stop. The last few hours passed through a dull desert landscape, and I was enjoying being surrounded again by forest. It was keeping my mind off of the semi-trucks picking up speed as they passed me winding toward what would be my new home, if things worked out.

The plan was for me to start work in one week. Just enough time for what I expected to be a rowdy family Christmas with my cousins.

Then I would meet with the others who had been hired to set up our new office space, all two of them. The project leader was coming from Boise to open this small branch of the staffing company. The other person was a young woman native to the town of Regal.

I was exhausted already thinking this situation was a lot more peopley than I preferred. But I’d get used to it. And wasn’t that the point? To be closer to Josh and Darla and the kids, and Beth. And my aunt when she returned from Florida later next year.

I was descending now and could see the town spread out along the wide valley floor. There was twice the amount of traffic headed the opposite direction today, most likely students from the state college, headed home after semester finals. Hopefully, the good weather would hold for them.

The last time I’d seen the kids was at Mom’s memorial in August. With this thought, I reached for the cinnamon gum I kept in the console. I tore off half a stick and popped it in my mouth.

I can’t imagine what it was like to see me then. I was a serious mess at the time, barely able to function. My friend Cam had toted me around for days while I was unresponsive in my grief.

Aunt Maggie, Josh, and Beth had taken turns calling and each taking a trip to Portland to check on me until I was able to bring myself to return to work. The shame and guilt of it settled deep. I needed to prove to all of us that I was ok.

Grief was inevitable in life, but depression was a bitch. It didn’t care if you were already broken, depression would push you down and grind your face into the sidewalk and hold you there. Fortunately, I had finally found my fight and rediscovered some tools to keep that mean girl on the other side of the street.

I could see my phone blowing up and ignored it. I was just pulling into the neighborhood, and they would see me in just a minute.

Josh’s house was a nineteen- seventies style split level painted a cheerful shade of yellow. There were evergreens lining the drive and homemade pavers along the walk with colored stones in the shapes of butterflies and dragonflies. The latter were most certainly made by his girls and their mom.

I could see their faces as they hung over the back of the couch, each of them playing on a tablet. They must have finally heard me coming. When the door opened, both girls jumped up and down excitedly in their bare feet. I extracted myself from the car and took off in a run.

"Hey, my favorites!” I squealed as I reached them. They squealed right back as they held on to me.