After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
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Haven holds my hand as we walk along the streets of her neighborhood.
The air holds a slight chill, as the temperature is dropping due to the sun slowly sinking down beneath the horizon. Brown and orange leaves dance in the wind before falling to the ground and crunching beneath my feet as the breeze blows. The trees are beginning to fall bare and the grass has started to wither, shifting from a vivid green to a dull shade. Our last day of school before fall break had been today, leaving Haven and I with four days of freedom before returning to our usual routine.
"What are you and your mom planning for Thanksgiving?" Haven questions as we walk.
I mull over the answer for a moment. To be honest, I'm not quite sure. Thanksgiving had been a big holiday celebrated by my family before Dad's passing. Dad's family had come to this country as immigrants in search of a better life, so they had always been super passionate about giving thanks for all they had worked so hard for. And Dad had always used food as a display of love (mainly because Mom has always been such a terrible cook), so he had always gone all out during the holidays. However, this will be our first holiday season without him present. I already know this will be tough for my mother to face. We no longer live near our relatives, and something tells me Mom is not quite ready to make a trip home.
I shrug. "I don't know," I admit. "Probably not much. With Dad, and all . . ." I trail off, allowing my words to fade. I do not have to explain myself to Haven. I know she understands.
She squeezes my hand in hers, filling me with comfort and warmth. "You don't have to," she starts to share, "but I was wondering if maybe you guys would want to come over?"
Immediately, I begin to decline the offer. "Haven, you don't have to do that. I wouldn't want to intrude. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm thankful, but I totally get that–"
"No, seriously," Haven interrupts. "It was my mom's idea. You know she and your mom talk, so she . . ." Haven doesn't have to finish her sentence. I know just what she is implying without her having to elaborate. Certainly, my mother has shared our situation with Haven's parents by now. A month ago, this realization would have terrified me. It is no longer such a scary thought.
"Anyway," Haven continues, "it's not going to be a huge gathering, or anything. My family always waits until December to see our extended relatives because we're all so scattered, it's hard to get together often. Usually we just spend Thanksgiving at the house. But I thought it would be more fun if you came. I know my mom has already invited your mother, but I figured I'd ask you myself."
Haven eyes me, expression discreetly pleading. Her big blue eyes go all wide as her features tense, awaiting my response. I know what she wants me to say, and she's impossible to say no to.
"I guess I'll talk to my mom," I finally say with a groan, though I'm not truly bothered. It's heartwarming, to know that Haven and her family care so much about mine.
