Dear Life(125)
Instantaneously, I became the lady of the household, a responsibility I wasn’t ready to carry. I was forced to grow up quickly, learn how to cook, clean, and take care of my dad and brother. We traded in our family traditions for survival tactics, spending our time on the farm and making sure we didn’t lose our home as well.
Our once goal of eating a hot dog in every state together and taking Polaroids at odd landmarks became a distant memory, and in its place, we pushed through the loss of our beloved mother and worked night and day until our hands were raw.
Dad downsized the farm once Paul went to the Army, and when I left for school, he sold even more land, giving him a solid savings he could put toward retirement.
We all went our separate ways, forgetting about the childish goals we strived for, so we could obtain new ones that focused more on our future. Since Mom’s death, I haven’t thought about our final road trip we’d been planning to take before she got sick.
“Marley, I’m getting married in a week and a half. My life will be changing soon. I’m going to be responsible for a wife, for a family, and I have some unfinished business.” Paul pulls a folded up piece of paper from the back of his pocket and hands it to me. “Mom planned this trip for us. It’s about time we take it. Let’s finish what we started.”
Tears well in my eyes as I look down at the map Mom drew years ago. The map has yellowed with age, but her pen markings are still clear to this day. Starting from Santa Monica, California, she mapped our trip across Route 66, traveling through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, and then Illinois, where she circled in red the city of Chicago.
“The mother of all hot dogs,” I say softly, remembering my mom’s dream to eat a Chicago dog along Lake Michigan. I run my hand over the map, wishing she was still with us.
We were the perfect little family of four, with Paul looking like our mom and me looking like my dad. We wore matching sweaters at Christmas and posed for my mom’s incessant Polaroid taking. The memories rock me harder than I expect as a tear falls down my cheek.
My dad pulls me into his brawny chest and kisses my head once again. “It’s time, Buttons. Let’s finish your mom’s dreams.” My dad pulls out a picture from his shirt pocket and hands it to me. “We’re bringing her with us, one more final trip as a family of four. What do ya say, kiddo?”
Uncertainty washes over me. “I don’t know,” I shake my head. “I have my blog and products I have to test.”
“You can do that on the road,” Paul encourages me. “Come on, sis. If anything, do it for Mom and do it for Tacy. The old girl has one more trip in her.”
I laugh-snort, snot bubbling out of my nose. I wipe it away and grab my boys by their waists. “I guess we’re going to Chicago.”