“We were good, so Daddy took us on a trip.”

“A trip?”

“Of course, Mommy.” My father’s voice was far too upbeat at the sight of my mother crying and distraught. Didn’t he see she was scared? He stood behind me in the kitchen, his large hands resting on my shoulders. “Silly Mommy,” he joked. “We’re home,” he said and beamed with a bright smile. It was odd, everything about the moment. Maybe that’s why I remember it so well.

“I got you taffy, Mommy,” I offered and my mother gripped me in the tightest hug, holding on to me and squeezing too tight. I didn’t understand what was wrong with her. Our father said she was just being silly. Back then I felt awful, though, since she’d obviously wanted to come with us. That’s what I thought.

“Of course we came back. We’d never leave you.” I think those were the words from my father. “Family doesn’t ever leave.”

At the time, I was so happy to see my mother smile, wiping under her tired eyes and clinging to me and my sister. We made her happy, although it didn’t make sense that she was upset at all. We’d been good, our grades and our behavior both, so it was wonderful to be rewarded with a trip to the amusement park for the weekend. How could Mom not have known?

The realization never clicked. The pieces didn’t add up and the questions stayed buried at the back of my memory where childish things that didn’t matter went to die.

The crickets are already out and chirping noisily when I pull into the driveway. It’s dark for only being seven but the fall brings early sunsets in this part of the country, especially in these Podunk towns in the mountains of northeastern New York.

The old fence in the backyard has been patched with newer pickets that stand out even in the dim illumination provided by the streetlights. They’re a bright white among the dingy, worn paint of the others. The grass needs to be cut too. I imagine that’s what my father would be doing this weekend if he weren’t headed out for a conference. Vaguely I wonder what conference it is. If I was earlier in my career, I’d have already texted him and would have preferred to spend my weekend at the conference rather than the dinner and movie plans my sister concocted. That seems like a lifetime ago too.

Sitting back in my car I stare up at the two-story family home with dark red brick and cream shutters. So many memories are carved into the walls of this house. Good ones and bad ones both, but right now, all I can envision are the times I smiled along with my sister.

As our mother did our hair at the kitchen sink and all the games of hide-and-seek that drove my father crazy. All the good times do little to settle the sadness that lingers in my chest. It’s a weight that won’t move and maybe that’s because back then, there was so much hope. So much innocence.