He’d gotten through it. Whatever hounded him now, he’d get through that.
He’d never give this up again, this feeling of home and of hope.
To Whiskey Beach, he thought, lifting his glass and catching Abra’s eye, Abra’s smile. He drank to it, and everything in it.
When he stood on Monday morning after helping load cars, the feeling of hope remained with him.
He gave his grandmother a last good-bye hug.
He gave his grandmother a last good-bye hug.
“I’ll remember,” she whispered in his ear. “Stay safe until I do.”
“I will.” “And tell Abra she won’t be teaching her morning yoga class without me much longer.”
“I’ll do that, too.”
“Come on, Mom, let’s get you in the car.” Rob gave his son a one-armed man hug, a slap on the back. “We’ll see you soon.”
“Summer’s coming,” Eli said, helping his grandmother. “Make time, okay?”
“We will.” His father walked around to the driver’s seat.
“It was good to have all the Landons in Bluff House again. Stay ready for us. We’ll be back.”
Eli waved them off, watched them until the road curved away.
Beside him Barbie let out a quiet whine. “You heard him. They’ll be back.”
Whiskey Beach
___________________
By Gemma Stiles from Sydney, Australia -
The Great Eggscape, CC BY 2.0,
The Great Eggscape, CC BY 2.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42075158
The best way to deal with this is to examine your ever-changing states—without judgement—knowing feelings and circumstances will inevitably shift again, and practice celebrating real life with all its many quirks.
