The Book of Leah

Into the Great Wide Open - Chapter 4

As they boarded, 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 and Leah looked into the blinding blue that stretched out beyond her. She leaned back as the gentle strains of Tommy Petty filled her ears and she soon fell fast asleep.

Leah awoke to the excited exclamation of a little boy behind her, "Look, Mom, you can see Lake Michigan!"

Sleepily opening 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 shoreline. The Sears Tower stood out above all the other skyscrapers, a giant contrasting the rest of the skyline.

Knowing from her last flight to Houston that watching the ground rush by made her airsick, Leah closed her eyes as they began their final descent and prepared for landing. The pull in stomach was thankfully short lived, and with a hop they touched down and taxied to the gate. Leah waited for the other passengers to disembark before grabbing her backpack and heading towards the jetway to the terminal.

Stepping out into the light, she saw her cousin Bonnie in a neon, oversized T-shirt and leggings, and her "Aunt" Betty smiling as they rushed up to greet her with hugs.

"So, how was the flight?" Betty asked.

Not bad," Leah replied. "It was calm enough that I slept most of the way. It was really clear today - you could see for miles and the skyline was amazing coming in."

"Yeah, the skies were pretty clear today," Betty agreed. "Great view of the skyline driving in, too."

"So what did you want to do today?" Bonnie asked Leah. "It's barely nine, and we have all day for sightseeing if you want."

"Hmm, I don't know," Leah mused. "How about some breakfast and then some art?"

"Sounds good," Bonnie said. "What do you want to see at the Art Institute?"

"I really want to see American Gothic and Nighthawks," Leah declared as her Bonnie chatted.

"As for breakfast," Betty chimed in, "we can find some coffee and donuts downtown."

As they made their way down to baggage claim, Betty asked, "How many bags did you bring for your trip?"

"I narrowed it down to just two," Leah said with pride. "I have spending money from Dad for whatever else I needed. He said he wired funds to Uncle Trevor just in case."

"Yes," Betty said sarcastically, "you should be just fine while you are here."

The suitcases started coming up the conveyor belt. Bonnie asked, "So what was the color theme for this trip?"

"Bright yellow for sunshine and good weather!" Leah grinned as the first suitcase came into view, a bright yellow ribbon bow tied around its handle.

"Also I want to see the fountain from Ferris Bueller," said Leah after a pause and she helped grab the second suitcase.  

After they got the luggage, Leah made a quick call letting her father know she was safe in Chicago and she had met with Betty and Bonnie. 

After she returned from the payphones Betty smiled. "As for plans for this morning , the fountain is just  a short walk from the Art Institute, and we could walk along the lakes shore too."   They soon were loaded in the SUV and maneuvering  their way toward the skyscrapers of Chicago Loop.

They lucked out and found parking off Monroe and soon reviewed their food options from the local vendors. They settled on hot coffee, a small selection of donuts, and a blueberry muffin for Betty. They ate on the steps of the museum, enjoying the sunshine.

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

"So, Leah, how were 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 is all wound up. Just the other day, she was saying it feels like he was just walking away from everything to try and forget."

Leah was quiet for a moment as she thought about how to answer the question and share the feelings that had been on her mind. "Aunt Betty, I don't think any of you understand at all. When grandma came those different times to stay with us after Mom's stage four diagnosis, it was helpful but," Leah explained, "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 for the goodbyes, but I don't think he anticipated the grief that would come after." Leah paused as her heart stirred with the words she wanted to share, "The house has become a constant reminder of what we've lost. Every belonging, every corner, holds a piece of her life before cancer."

"Everyone talks about the grief of losing someone you love," Leah said, "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, now mom has passed, but that line in the rug is still as clear in my sight as the day she sewed it," she said as she wiped her eyes.

Leah turned and placed her hand into her aunt's hand and continued, "The death of someone you love is," she paused to find the best words to match her soul. "like the lingering smell of smoke after a fire," Leah explained. "The fire is out, the embers are cold, but still you can smell it. You think you're imagining it, because no one else seems to smell it. But for you, it's a constant reminder that it happened."

"Even years from now, I know that house would still hold them, 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 both hugged with Leah folding into an embrace in a small alcove. After a moment of silence, Betty cleared her throat and looked at Leah, "Well, at least you get to have a fresh start in Houston."

"Yeah, Aunt Betty, I know. I get a 'fresh start,' a blank page. Yet, honestly, I'm struggling to turn the page, because of the fear of what's on the next one. People talk about it with the concept of some blind wonderment. Starting all over, new introductions, new friendships... and yes, I know we have family in Houston, but they aren't really close family. My Grandma and I get along, I guess. But Aunt Caroline and I, we don't. She's so controlling with her central goal to have us all live together, like she's my mom. But she is NOT my mom, and ain't never gonna be. I am gonna have to deal with that until I'm 18. Which is why I'm begging my dad to not live near them, where I'd have to go to school with my cousins. Because honestly, I don't want that baggage," Leah said as the little fires 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, yes, I can choose a few of the color options, but the picture's already set. That's what my Aunt Caroline wants to do. She wants to fit me into her picture. Well, that's not what I want, it's not who I am. I am going to write the story of me, it's going to be true to my heart and to myself. So that's where I am at and that's where I'm going to be." She said as she clutched her Aunt's hand and Betty pulled the girl into her arms, to warm her weary heart.

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