It Was The Best of Times, It Was The Worst of Times

Twelve

"All packed, honey?"

"Yeah, I'm ready to get out of here."

"I don't think the kids are quite ready yet. They're still downstairs."

"Well what are they waiting for?"

"I don't know, I figured they'd be done with whatever by the time I finished loading up the car. Oh, have you seen my pocket knife? I can't seem to find it anywhere, I don't know where I put it."

"I know what they're doing downstairs."

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Sure enough, they were putting their names on the bunk bed, just as my friends and I had done years ago. It seems that we had started a trend because I saw many more names of children up there.

"Ready to go, guys? We are going to stop for lunch before we get on the road."

One by one, they got up from the bottom bunk and went to the car. I lingered for a minute, noticing how the room was practically the same since I had been here. Eighteen years changed most of the city, but this house was the exact same. I thought back to the summer from hell and I smiled because in all honesty, it wasn't that bad. I made a mental note to call Leah after lunch to tell her about the weeks spent in the old vacation home.

After what seemed like a while, but probably wasn't more than forty five seconds, I felt a hand on my waist.

"I'm sorry that I got this cabin instead of one of the others."

"Hey," I scolded, "it isn't your fault. You didn't know. Besides, I had fun here. In some odd way it makes up for those years ago when I was here."

"Are you ready? The kids are really hungry."

"So am I. Do you have a place in mind for lunch?"

"The first place we see."

"Alright. Do we have everything?"

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We spent two weeks in Leah's old summer cabin. She and her family had never gone there after that year, but she had always wondered what happened to it.

Josh and I didn't really stay in touch anymore. Last I heard, he moved out of the country for work. That was a few years ago now. After the cabin, there was a period of time when we were together and we tried to make it work. To be honest, we dragged it out much farther than it should have been and for too long. I don't regret being with him, but I do regret forcing myself to think that he was "The One." We never actually fought, which was why our relationship was off by a few centimeters. When we split it was a relief more than a heartbreak.

Now, I wished I had a way to contact him. I wanted to tell him how my family and I went to the old cabin. I wanted to spend hours talking about nonsense like we did when he first got back because that was one of the best feelings. My husband and I didn't do that often enough. I love my husband, really I do, but we don't set enough time for each other anymore. There are no date nights, no surprise gifts, no more talk of the future, no more nervousness and butterflies at the thought of seeing each other. I wanted too talk to the one person I knew who wouldn't change his love of talking for hours. I wanted to talk to Josh, just one last time.

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"Oh my god."

"What?"

"Do you see that guy over there? The one who just walked in."

"The guy carrying that little girl?"

"Yeah."

"Who is he?"