I can still see it.
The memories - they're painted vividly.
Mom was driving. Dad was asleep in the passenger's seat. I was in the back, squished next to Connor and Natalie.
Natalie was on her phone and Connor was gazing out the window, watching the trees and the road zoom past us. I found myself thinking of the only word that could possibly describe how I felt; boredom.
We were on our way to Aunt Diane's house. Mom and Dad were leaving us there while they went on vacation like they did every year. She lived two hours from where we lived, in a nice little neighborhood tucked away in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forests and rivers and mountains.
I could hear the music playing. It was soft, quiet - but I could hear it - faintly.
"Turn it up," Connor said.
Mom turned it up. White Christmas.
Natalie rolled her eyes. "Seriously? Christmas music?"
"Natalie, don't have that attitude," Mom sighed. "You should be excited."
"What's there to be excited about? First off, Christmas has already passed. Second, all it means is that I'm going to be freezing my as-" she cut herself off, realizing what she was about to say, and continued with, "butt off for the next few months."
"Shush!" Connor said, bringing his finger to his lips, gesturing for them to keep quiet. "I like this song."
"Oh, shut up, Connor. Not everything's about you." Natalie spat. Who on Earth did she think she was? Queen Natalie? Ruler of the universe?
She did. She thought that the world revolved around her. Everything angered her. Everything irritated her. Everything pissed her off. You couldn't say a single thing without her snapping at you.
"I think you're the one who needs to shut up," I said.
Connor backed me up. "Yeah, Nat. Shut up."
She laughed. "Oh no! My thirteen-year-old sister telling me to shut up? I'm so intimidated! Looks like I'll be having nightmares! Tell you what, Rory. Why don't you stay out of this?"
"I'm fourteen, smart-ass," I muttered.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Because there's such a big difference!"
Suddenly, Dad was awake. I could see him watching us through the rearview mirror. "Alright kids, take it down a notch. And Rory? Don't swear."
"But Dad-"
"Don't swear."
A smirk spread across Natalie's lips. I shot her a glare.
The song, White Christmas, finished.
Mom parked the car in the driveway of a small, cute house - the kind of house that looks cozy, the kind you'd consider a cottage to stay at over the summer to swim in the lake in the backyard. It was simple. One of those cozy-looking places that looked a cottage. We got out, unloading the car and taking out our thousands of bags we had brought along with us, the cold breeze biting my skin.
Connor ran up the staircase leading up to the front door. He pushed the doorbell three times.
"Connor," Dad said, "don't ring the doorbell so many times."
"It makes you look like a freak," Natalie added. "Then again you are so-"
"Don't say things like that." Mom cut in.
"Yeah," Connor grinned, "It's rude, Natalie, gosh. You're the oldest one here. You're supposed to be mature. Right, Mom?"
Though she tried to hide it, Mom couldn't help smiling. "Right," she replied.
The door swung open, and there stood Aunt Diane.