Her kids ran over to us on her new property, and I hugged all of them. Emily had introduced me as Aunt Evie.

“You were our mom’s best friend when you were a kid!” Alexi said, her toothless smile so cute.

“My best friend still,” Emily said, hugging me.

The kids hugged me again and I ended up tackled on the ground, giggles all around.

* * *

That night, after I had dinner with Emily and Eric and the kids, I went home, exhausted. Kids are tiring. I put on my red boots. Mr. Bob and Trixie Goat were out again, but I didn’t have the energy to get mad. They skipped right over to me, all victorious and happy, and walked with me while I did my animal rounds, feeding and taking care of everybody.

I said hello to Virginia Alpaca and Alpaca Joe. Joe spit, his spit relentless, Virginia Alpaca let me pet her. I visited with the lambs, who followed the mother in a line to the fence so I could pet them. “Greetings, Padre, Momma, Jay Rae, Raptor, and The TMan.”

I talked to Shakespeare and Jane Austen and gave them their hay. The cats twisted in and out between my legs, then sped off to find mice to catch, and Butch and Cassidy barked. Sundance, as usual, was right by my side. My best furry friend.

I sat on the beach with my arm around Sundance and thought about Miss Patsy and Emily.

Emily had gone through a dark, black, scary place for years when she lost her mother.

I had felt guilty for years.

She had let it go, so now I needed to let my guilt go, too.

I stared up at the night sky, a handful of stars glimmering, and said, “I love you, Miss Patsy. I am sorry.”

I swear I saw a whale blow his spout in the distance.

I took that as a spiritual sign, as Aunt Camellia would have said, and laughed.

* * *

“Johnny, Betsy, Tilly, and Kayla are coming up Friday night to see me.”

My mother, aunts, and I were sitting in the gazebo. They were drinking wine. I was drinking lemonade. It was dusk, the wisteria leaves floating in the wind above us.

“They must hate me,” my mother said, her hand an unsteady mess as she pushed her hair behind her ears.

“They must hate us,” Aunt Camellia said, her voice breaking. “There can be no emotional spectrum in which they wouldn’t.”

“We deserve it,” Aunt Iris said. “It’s clear when one takes a moment to rationally see this from their side.”

All three of them seemed tired. Older. Sad to their bones. I felt bad about that.

“They won’t hate you,” I said. “They’re not here to hate anyone. They want to meet me.”