Saying Goodbye

The late afternoon sun shone through the slats in the fence, casting a ladder like pattern across the sidewalk. Ellie sat on the warm, cement stoop sorting through the last box from the attic. Every now and then the breeze would stir the honeysuckle, reminding her of its sweetness. Cleaning out the house stirred lots of memories.

             “Ellie, where are you?”

             “Back porch,” she called to her sister.

             “Look what I found?” Margie said, sitting down next to her. She was holding an old, slightly out of focus photograph of them when they were kids.

             “Where did you find this? Look at Dad’s mustache?” Ellie laughed, examining the photo. “We must have been like seven and nine?”

             “I think so,” Margie agreed, scrutinizing the picture. “We look so nerdy,” she joked.

             “Hey, I loved that dress,” Ellie protested, laughing. “Dad was so young. Where was this taken?” she asked, flipping the photo over.

             In their mother’s neat cursive, it said, Puget Sound, Washington. Aunt Alice and Uncle Paul’s house.

             “We look so young and happy,” Margie remarked.

             “Before it all went to hell in a handbasket,” Ellie pointed out, with some lingering resentment.

             “I think this was when I caught the starfish and put them in the bathtub,” Margie reminisced, ignoring Ellie’s dramatics. “Do you remember that?” she asked, laughing.

             “I remember singing at lunch that day, when Uncle Paul told us that if we sing at lunch, we will cry before bed,” Ellie recalled.

             “Yeah, that was a strange wife’s tale, huh?” Margie remarked.

             “But it was true, because you cried when Mom made you put the starfish back in the ocean,” Ellie reminded her.

             “Was that the same night you fell off the top bunk?”

             “Yeah, maybe.”

             “You cried like a baby,” Margie teased.

             “You would’ve too, if you’d broken your arm,” Ellie defended her younger self.

             “You dislocated your elbow. You didn’t break it,” Margie corrected her.

             “Whatever,” Ellie huffed, good naturedly. “What should we do with dad’s old fishing gear? Look at this tacklebox. Some of this stuff looks new,” she said, sifting through the box.

             “I guess just donate it,” Margie gave the box a brief inspection. “I don’t know anyone who could use it.”

             “Me neither, but dad loved fishing,” Ellie hesitated. “It hurts to just give it away.”

             “He hardly ever caught anything though.”

             “I didn’t say he was good,” Ellie grinned.

             “I think I’ll frame this picture.”

             “Why? It’s kind of blurry.”

             “I know, but we were a happy family once, and there aren’t that many photos of us with dad,” Margie explained.

             “Because he left,” Ellie stated, flatly.

             “You gotta let it go, Ellie, or it will just eat you alive. Dad was mentally ill," she reminded her.

             “I know, and I thought I had, but I’ve just been flooded with memories going through his things. Why did he take so long to get help? We lost so many years," Ellie continued, full of regrets.

             “I know, but I want to remember the good ones. Forgive the others,” Margie pleaded, resting her hand on Ellie’s leg. "Together we can move past it. Dad was a good person with a lot of problems, but he did the best he could at the time."

             “I’m trying. You know dad apologized for his part in everything. He had tears in his eyes when he told me. He said he’d failed, and it just about broke my heart,” Ellie continued, her eyes filling with tears.

             “That was major for him to admit all that. He wasn’t one for sharing his feelings.”

             “You got that right,” the girls chuckled in unison.

             “I think we should go back there,” Margie suggested, still holding the photograph.

             “Back to Puget Sound?”

             “Yeah,” Margie continued, warming to the idea. “Let’s take a road trip and celebrate the good memories and make some new ones of our own.”

             “That’s a lovely idea. It would be a sweet way of saying good-bye to dad,” Ellie pointed out.

             “I’ll bet you mom still has Uncle Paul’s address in her old address book. That thing is so full, it’s like a museum."

             “Strangers would be living there now,” Ellie pointed out.

             “So what? We could just take a quick picture of that beach, like in the photo. Maybe that massive piece of driftwood is still there? We could rent a place and revisit old times?”

             “When would we go? I’m teaching this summer.”

             “When is school over?” Margie wondered.

             “Second week in July,” Ellie told her, consulting her calendar. 

             “And I have vacation time coming. How about the last week of July then?”

             “Are we really going to do this?” Ellie looked at her sister. “Let’s see how far it is,” she suggested, pulling up her maps app. “Eight and a half hours!”

             “We can do that in a day,” Margie assured her. “And then we’d have plenty of time to visit the area. We’ll share the driving. Maybe mom can remember some of the things we did in the area back then. It will be cathartic. Please tell me you’ll go?”

             “It would be a fun road trip, but what about closing up the house?” Ellie said, being the practical one. “We still have so much to do.”

             “It’ll still be here when we get back. This could be so good for us. We never take trips together.”

             “Washington is beautiful,” Ellie remarked, wistfully.

             “We deserve a trip like this, after all the work we’ve done to this house. Dad would be so happy for us?”

             “What about Mom? Would she feel bad?” Ellie worried. “Or left out?”

             “After the year we’ve been through? I think she’ll be pleased to,” Margie told her honestly.

             “We’d have such a good time,” Ellie remarked.

             “It’s settled then,” Margie said, getting up. “Boy are my knees stiff. Come on, let’s load the rest of the boxes, and make a plan. I think we still have time to drop off the donations before they close.”

             As Ellie lay in bed that night, ruminating about family, too hyped up to sleep, she realized a trip was just what they needed. It would be a beautiful way to say goodbye and bury any lingering bad memories. Margie was right. It was time to remember the good memories. Remembering her dad’s crazy, honking laugh, she smiled as she finally drifted off to sleep.