“Thanks for hanging out.” Leah stretched out in her seat at Gate B27.

Brett, still tired at 6:30 am in the morning, tried to focus on everything happening. He knew he’d be back at the Hatfield-Jackson in 48 hours, flying to Houston. “No problem, sweetheart,” he smiled over the coffee he’d been nursing.

“Have fun with your cousins, okay? And don’t give your aunt too much trouble.” He wrapped his left arm around her and gave her a tight squeeze. 

“Me, cause trouble?” Leah feigned disbelief at her father’s comment. “I’m actually excited and looking forward to seeing Bonnie on happier terms and on her home turf.”

“Yeah, well, your mom and Trevor were always close. Growing up, his mom missed the south and would come down whenever she could, bringing Trevor with her. Rumor is she has never loved farm life, even though that’s why they moved to Wisconsin years ago.”

“And, then, when he met and married Betty, your mother and her became fast friends, despite their different lives, they stayed close. As Bonnie was a few months behind you, they used to send clothes and things back and forth between you girls whenever they came down. I’m glad you all are still close,” he added.

“I remember playing in the loft of Grandpa Eaton’s barn, and being chased by that monster of a turkey the one time we visited before. I think I was six.”

“Oh my gosh, I’d forgotten about that turkey! You’re right, it was a mean SOB. You will probably get some time on the farm. But from what I hear, you might end up working at one of the family businesses.”

The intercom crackled overhead: “Good morning, folks, this is an announcement that we will soon begin pre-boarding for flight 182, non-stop to Chicago, from Gate B27. Any passengers traveling with small children, children traveling alone, our VIP and first-class passengers, or those needing extra time to board, please come to the gate now. After that, we will begin boarding starting at the rear of the aircraft.”

Leah checked her boarding pass: 9F. She began gathering her things and pulled out the worn paperback copy of “Outlander” Denise had loaned her. ‘It’s a beautiful love story,’ she had promised the day before when she stopped by. In her Walkman was a mix-tape of her favorites by R.E.M., The Cure, Morrissey, U2, and even a little Paula Abdul. Her country mixtape was also on-hand in her side pouch.

Standing up, Leah looked back at her dad. “I love you and I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. I’ll keep you posted on what’s going on in Houston.” Leah looked away. “I know you’re not happy with me about that, but please know I’m trying to do the best for all of us.”

“I know.” Leah hugged her father tight as her heart burned at the future that awaited.

“Now boarding rows 8-15, please make your way to the jetway to board,” the announcement came through over the intercom.

Brett held her close, his eyes welling up a little as he looked into her beautiful blue eyes. “Til your love holds me again.”

With a pang in her heart at his words, Leah whispered back, “Til your love holds me again. I love you. I’ll call you when we land.”

“Thank you and I love you. Be safe.” He let her go and watched her walk towards the boarding line.

“I will,” she called back, handing her printed pass to the flight attendant and boarding the plane.

Leah settled into her window seat and put on her headphones, listening to the opening bars of “Losing My Religion” as the plane taxied for takeoff. Soon after, they were gliding through the clouds. Leah looked into the blinding blue. She leaned back as the gentle strains of Tom Petty filled her ears and before long, she was fast asleep.

Leah awoke to the excitement of a little boy behind her, “Look, Mom, you can see Lake Michigan!”

Wiping the sleep out of her eyes, Leah looked out her window. A vast expanse of dark blue stretched out as the plane banked. All she could see was sky until they leveled out, revealing the endless sprawl of humanity blanketing the eastern Chicago shore. The Sears Tower stood out above all the other skyscrapers–a giant in contrast to the rest of the skyline.

Knowing from her last flight to Houston that watching the ground rush by during the landing would make her sick, Leah closed her eyes as they began their final descent. She was grateful the pull in her stomach was short lived. With two hops, they touched down and taxied to the gate.

Stepping out into the light of the terminal, she saw Bonnie in an oversized Pink Energizer Bunny T-shirt and leggings and her “Aunt” Betty as they rushed up to greet her.

“So, how was the flight?” Betty queried.

“Not bad. It was calm enough that I slept most of the way. It was so clear today, you could see for miles.”

“What did you want to do today?” Bonnie asked Leah. “It’s early enough and we have all day for sightseeing if you want.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. How about some breakfast and some art?

“What do you want to see at the Art Institute?”

“My big three would be American Gothic, Nighthawks, and the Seurat.

“As for breakfast,” Betty chimed in, “We can find some vendors by the park. How many bags did you bring for your trip?”

“I narrowed it down to just two. Can we stop real quick, I want to call dad and let him know I’m here.” Leah turned to the wall of Illinois Bell payphones lining the corridor and searched her pockets for enough change.

As she rejoined them, she turned to Betty. “Dad told me he wired funds to Uncle Trevor just in case I needed anything.”

“Yes,” Betty answered with a touch of sarcasm. “You should be just fine while you are here.”

Bonnie looked at the suitcases coming down the conveyor belt, “So what was the color-theme for this trip?”

“Bright yellow for sunshine and good weather!” Leah pointed at the first suitcase that came into view, a sunflower-colored bow tied around its handle.

“I want to see the fountain from Ferris Bueller, if it’s not too far,” Leah helped grab the second suitcase. 

Betty looked at the large wall map of Chicago by the rental counters. “The fountain is just a short walk from the Art Institute and we could take a stroll along the lakeshore too.” They were soon in the SUV, heading toward the skyscrapers of Chicago Loop.

They lucked out with parking when a Yugo belched out a cloud of diesel, opening a parking meter off Monroe. The choices from the local vendors was hot coffee, a small selection of donuts, and a blueberry muffin for Betty. They ate on the steps of the museum, enjoying the sunshine and catching up.

Inside the cavernous hall of the museum, Betty slid her arm around her niece and asked about what had been gnawing at her since the early conversation with Trevor that morning.

“So, Leah, how are things going in Atlanta? Are you and your dad alright? Trevor said your dad seemed pretty out of it on their last call. I know your Grandma Cloud is all wound up.” Betty stood still and waited for an answer of more than blank stares. “Why just the other day, she was saying it feels like he was just walking away from everything to try and forget your mom altogether.”

Leah’s expression changed, as she wondered how to share the feelings that had been on her mind. “Aunt Betty, I don’t think any of you understand. When grandma came those different times to stay with us after Mom’s stage-four diagnosis, it was helpful, but it was different for Dad. It was a long goodbye, an ending he knew was inevitable. He fought it, of course, but it was always there.

“He had time to prepare, but I don’t think he anticipated the grief that would come after.” Leah’s heart stirred with the words she spoke. “The house has become a constant reminder of what we’ve lost. Every belonging, every corner, holds a piece of her life before cancer.” She walked ahead to The Door by Ivan Albright. She took in the work and the nuanced detail of the painted wreath. 

“Everyone talks about the grief of losing someone you love, but they don’t talk about the grief of losing everything familiar. It’s not just the person; it’s the life you shared, the little things that connected you to them. The mug my mom used for coffee, the pictures of her and us on the walls, the spot where Pacha tore the rug that she mended. It’s been seven years since she did that. The dog died two years ago and now mom has passed, but that line in the rug is still as clear in my sight as the day she sewed it.”

They walked through the halls, admiring the remarkable works around them. Lingering to take in the awe-inspiring majesty of the Sauret. They sat for a while, captivated by its timeless, almost dreamlike qualities. Each brushstroke drawing them in deeper. As they moved toward the modern-art collection, Betty voiced what many in the family had been wondering. “I still don’t get why you both are leaving.”

Leah didn’t answer, her attention drawn to Gilliam’s Fire, its chaotic colored layers that seemed to glow from within. “The death of someone you love is like the lingering smell after a fire. The fire is out, the embers are cold, but still you can smell it. It’s a constant reminder that it happened.”

“Even years from now, I know that house would still hold that, Aunt Betty.” Leah looked down as the sting of the memories flushed through her being. “That…That is why we’re leaving.”

Aunt Betty and Bonnie hugged Leah, folding into an embrace in a small alcove. After a moment of silence, Betty cleared her throat and looked at Leah, “At least you get to have a fresh start in Houston.”

Caught off guard by the phrase, Leah repeated it. “Fresh start? People talk about it as if it’s some massive gift. Starting all over, new introductions, new friendships. And yes, I know we have family in Houston, but they aren’t close family. My Grandma and I get along, I guess. But Aunt Caroline and I, we don’t. Her only goal is to have us all live together like she’s my mom.” Leah strode ahead, the anger boiling over.

 Betty quickened her steps to catch up. 

“Leah.” Her hand reached out to console her.

She pulled away. “But she is NOT my mom and ain’t ever gonna be!” 

Several people stopped and looked at her. She put her head in her hands and sat by a Greek statue. “I’m begging Dad not to live near them, where I’d be the free nanny to my cousins. Because, I don’t want that baggage.” The fire that was kindling in her heart shone through.

“If I’m being given a blank page, I want to make sure that I am the one writing on it. Not some paint by numbers crap where the picture’s already set. That’s what Caroline wants to do. She wants to fit me into her picture. What if, that’s not what I want. If I am going to write the story of me, it’s going to be true to my heart.” She clutched her Aunt’s hand and Betty pulled the girl into her arms.