Lifetime

Prologue

I became infatuated with reading from the moment I learned. At six years old I would grab a hold of anything with words: books, magazines, product labels, receipts, anything to immerse myself in language. My favorite stories were always those epic, once in a lifetime love stories. Maybe they could be a little corny but there was nothing more romantic than an eternal, powerful love.

On my tenth birthday my best friend, Hobi, dared me to go into our attic. We'd both always been afraid of the dark, mysterious room and were convinced it held cobwebs, bugs, and maybe a ghost or two, but with a flashlight in tow I climbed the rinky ladder.

"What do you see?" I could hear his voice from below and rolled my eyes at him.

"Don't be a punk. Come up." I called back to him, hearing his initial protest but knowing he wouldn't be able to fight the urge to prove he wasn't afraid.

I squirmed and swatted my arms around as the stringy feeling of a cobweb hit my face and hair. By the time I clicked the flashlight on Hobi had finished climbing the ladder, his eyes wide as he peered around the room.

"See anything cool?" He crawled through the space so that he was right next to me.

I shook my head, scanning over the old couch, baby toys, and random boxes that filled the room. Hobi was busy doing the same, grabbing the flashlight to read the box labels and pulling open a couple to see what was inside.

When my eyes landed on a small box, I pulled it to my lap, my heart racing when I read in my mother's print, FAMILY.

I tugged at the tape, a smile immediately spread across my face when I recognized a worn photo of my great-grandmother. After placing it aside gently I dug through the rest of the box stuffed with old photos, news articles and two journals.

We jumped at the sound of my mom's voice calling out from the kitchen. I resealed the box, climbing down with it and tossing it onto my bed before heading to the kitchen with Hobi trailing behind me.

"Hosoek your mom called and said that dinner's ready." My mom nodded toward him, always a little terse with him. He turned to me, pulling me into a hug and whispering a short goodbye in my ear.

I sat at the kitchen table with my mom and dad, watching as my mom served both of us our dinner. She brought out a small birthday cake to be shared between us, my dad kissing the top of my head and ruffling my hair as he added a dramatic note to the end of the birthday song.

After helping my mom clean the kitchen I exaggerated my tiredness, eager to find out more about the box I'd retrieved. From my bedroom window I could already see the top of Hobi's head peeking from just above the windowsill.

"Took you long enough." He complained when I let him in. I laughed as he brushed the dirt off his bottom from where he'd been sitting in the grass.

We sat on my bedroom floor and I dumped the contents of the box onto the rug, Hobi starting to organize the newspaper clippings by date. I grabbed one of the journals, opening it to the first page, the writing faded and pages worn so that it was harder to read. The entries were short with only names and information I couldn't make sense of below.

August 14, 1802
Anne John Patrick
Soulmate meeting: April 1, 1817
Marriage: August 14, 1818

May 6, 1823
Janine Patrick Wells
Soulmate meeting: November 12, 1840
Marriage: May 6, 1846

I started to skip through until I recognized the name of my great-grandmother.

September 7, 1930
Mary Allen Phillips
Soulmate meeting: June 3, 1944
Marriage: September 7, 1948