The Gift

 I wasn’t a kid that gave my parents gifts. I assumed I was enough of a gift. Also my mom always balked at the idea. “If I want something, I’ll get it for myself.” she would say. 

Heather was the one that would manage to get a card. Heather is funny. She is smart and biting and has always been the one that you wanted at the table at dinner for entertainment. She always found the perfect card that would put my parents in stitches. They would quote the punch line of whatever card she found for weeks. 

I would hear my parents laughing as they read the card. My mother’s hiccuping laughter ringing through the house, “Oh that is choice! Ellis, look at that!” 

Then I would hear my dad mumble out the card and its punchline and bang the kitchen table, laughing with my mom.

I used to love when Heather would come home from college for that reason. She cracked my parents up. She broke that awkward teenage tension that was there without her. She brought noise. I would be upstairs getting ready for bed, and the three of them would be lingering over dinner, Heather telling them all about whatever class or professor was pissing her off. Heathers' loud voice carrying up the stairs followed by peels of laughter. I would fall asleep to that. My family together and happy.

Now, I start thinking of holidays months in advance. What will we do for Mom? What does Dad need? But Mom won’t remember. I do it for myself. Trying to hang on to her. Trying to let her know what she meant to me. Trying to help my Dad through the day. 

I try, but without Heather, there would be no joy. No tension break. She reminds us who we are as a family. Smart, funny, all a little rough around the edges but stronger for it.

I am desperate to recreate those moments when I can. To watch my parents light up with laughter and watch my sister, with pride and amazement, switch them on so easily.