Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 61705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Relaxed,” I say with a smile. “Happy.”
“Me too.”
He pulls me closer and I put my head on his shoulder.
“Uncle Luca, lay down!” Jack has an expectant expression. “I want to bury you again.”
“Me too,” Emerson says.
Luca helps the kids dig out sand to make an indentation in the sand for his body, then he lies down to be buried for the third time this week. This week has really underscored what a patient nature he has. He plays with the kids and doesn’t get frustrated with their imperfections. Or mine, for that matter.
I’ve only had one nightmare since we’ve been here. I worked through it like I did the last time, feeling the sadness and eventually going back to sleep. For me, this is a big deal. I’ve been getting more sleep lately than I have in a long time, and it feels good.
“Want to walk?” Cora asks me.
“Sure.”
I get up and brush the sand off my legs, and we start down the beach, our feet in the cool water. The views here are like none I’ve ever seen. The colors are all vibrant and bright, the lush greenery a stark contrast to the concrete jungle of New York City.
“Did you ever go to the beach with Chloe?” Cora asks.
“No, but I know she would’ve loved it.” I look out at the ocean’s waves. “We did spend lots of time at the pool. She loved the fountains there.”
“My mom and dad used to take us to Gulf Shores.”
“Did you guys play on the beach?”
Cora’s lips curve up in a wistful smile. “Yeah. We built sand castles and got ice cream at a little tiny place that my dad said looked like a shack that was about to fall over, but their ice cream was the best.”
“What kind would you get?”
“Lemon with sprinkles, like my mom.”
“Those are wonderful memories, Cora.”
We walk in silence for a few minutes, Jack and Emerson’s laughter growing faint as we get further from them. I adore all three of the kids, but Cora is the one I have the most kinship with. When we spend time together, talking or not, I feel like it heals us both in a tiny but meaningful way.
“Do you love Uncle Luca?” she asks me.
I smile down at her. The question doesn’t put me on the spot, because it’s one I’ve thought about several times on this vacation.
“Yes, I do.”
“But are you in love with him? Or do you just love him?” She sees something in the sand and bends down to look at it.
“Both?” I furrow my brow as I think about it. “I think too many people see love as a destination. In romantic relationships, they want that validation of the other person saying they love them. But for me, love is about the journey. In starts out small and full of hope. And over time, your Uncle Luca has done and said so many things that made my love for him grow. If you think of it like that, love can get bigger over time. You don’t just arrive at love and that’s it.” I squish my toes down into the wet sand. “Is this making any sense?”
“Yes.” She splashes through the shallow water. “My grandpa tells my grandma his love for her is bigger than all the stars in the sky. So maybe when they first met, it was just a few stars, but now it’s…how many stars are there, anyway?”
I smile. “So many. More than we can even count precisely.”
“I used to want to be an astronomer when I grew up. My dad had a telescope and we’d look at the stars and he’d tell me stories about them.”
“Really? I’d love to hear more about that.”
“He would set the telescope up on our deck and we’d bring out blankets and snacks and have star-gazing parties. Me and Dad and Jack. Emerson was still a baby.”
“Do you still remember the stories he told you?”
“Some of them.” She wrinkles her forehead in concentration. “There was a star he told us was a secret rebel base for a colony of giant ants who walked up like people instead of crawling. But I don’t remember the whole thing.”
“That sounds like a perfect way to spend an evening with your dad.”
“Did you used to do stuff with your dad when you were a kid?”
I smile and nod. “I helped him in his workshop. His hobby was building furniture.”
“Was it fun?”
“I thought so. His workshop was my favorite place in the world. It was a big building behind our house with a tin roof, and I loved the sound of the rain falling on it. He had an old refrigerator with cans of beer for him and orange soda for me.”
“Is that why you decided to start a furniture store?”
We’re getting close to the edge of the beach, which borders a tropical space that’s probably technically a jungle. Cora and I turn around to walk back.