Meeting Jack - Rewritten

Ch.1 - The Taylor's meet the Kennedys

To find that there are newcomers in the place I hold closest to me is quite an intimidating way to start my summer vacation. This has always been a place for my family to come together in happiness. We have one neighboring house on this street, and no one has lived there for years. The last family used it for a week, leaving because of the 'too many rowdy children.'

Now, I will admit, we are a 'rowdy' crew, but they could have had a little more understanding when buying the place that is... A summer neighborhood.

There's a good number of us; we aren't a small family. With seven of us Taylor kids and our two parents, our house is never silent except for those hours of the night that we sleep.

George is the oldest, at the 'grown' age of twenty. He's very lax and progressive, with a healthy dose of protectiveness. Of my siblings, I'm closest to him.

Harold is fifteen, taking third place in our line-up. He has a heart of gold, as they say, but he's very boyishly impulsive at times.

Marie is fourteen, and she won't ever let you forget it because it's closer to fifteen than thirteen was. A highly competitive girl, she wins at nearly everything and is quick to anger when she doesn't. Even I have to admit, despite being the one who is usually entrapped in arguments with her, she can be pretty lovely... You have to catch her at the right time.

Thomas, at the age of ten, is genuinely a sweet brother. He's one of the most amiable people I've ever gotten acquainted with; even sour medicine syrup can't wipe away that smile.

Katie is eight and loves words and water, always reading and exploring nearby lakes or the ocean. Due to her age, it's generally safe to say she's attached to our Mother like a shadow at any given time.

The youngest of us all is Ollie, a picturesque three-year-old. I'll always fight for my opinion that he's the most beautiful baby, complemented by chestnut curls, freckles, green eyes, and the sweetest of dimples that grace his smile.

My Mother has the heart and eyes of an angel, but I wouldn't suggest anyone anger her because these things can change instantly. Daddy is the moon and stars of my universe, and never seems to be mad at anyone. He'll tell you sternly when you've done something wrong but never raises his voice and lifts a hand to us.

As we all scatter throughout our lovely Hyannis Port home, I would like to know when I would meet the new addition to the neighborhood. I'm often the one who is sent to introduce our family to others; that is when my father doesn't do so. However, my stomach still feels cautious nerves, praying that we won't get yelled at again by stuffy neighbors. Hopefully, it's another sizable family that can understand our chaos.

My room is just as I left it. The bed was made but with a new layer of dust that will need removal. My shelves are filled with books stacked neatly in order of size. The pictures are framed in wooden frames, and the window is covered by dusty off-white curtains. When tying the fabric to the sides to open the window, I can't help the cough from bursting out of my chest from the dust. I'll need to dust before I leave to scope out the newcomers. So, I piled my bags on my shoulders, and a box held under my arm dropped to the floor with a thump, and I scrambled from my room to find Mama.

"Mama, do you know where the duster is?" I yell slightly, trying to find her whereabouts in the house so I know which direction to start towards.

"Down here, right in my hand!" She softly shouts back from what sounds like the kitchen. Sprinting down the stairs and through to the foyer toward the kitchen, slowing as I reach the doorway. I see Mama with a sweet smile on her features and the dust waving in her hand.

"Thank you. I went into my room only to find thick dust covering everything, as we do every summer." As I grab the duster from her and wrap my arm around her waist, she puts hers around my shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze.