We went to the funeral home today, me and my parents. I had that picture tucked in my pocket...the one where me and the older cousins were sitting on the back porch with a bunch of puppies and not a care in the world. We are smack dab in the middle of the dog days and it was stifling just to get in and out of the car on hot asphalt. Family meets in the foyer, kindly greeted by professional door openers who help with an old lady's walker or to visit with folks while they wait in line to pay respects. As soon as Donna showed up, I pulled the picture out and she remembered the day. She grabbed my hand as we headed toward the parlor and the new reality of her sisterless life. There were only the two of them.
Her daddy worked in traffic at the rubber plant following a career that included chief of police here in the 'burg. All this time, I thought that her mama was the oldest of the brood but daddy corrected me as we were heading back to the car, reciting the birth order of he and his siblings. I was the eldest of three like my mother. He was the lone boy in a gaggle of girls and all of their drama. BG and I decided that it was a match made in heaven, with their differences in character enhancing the best of the both of them. It's funny how true love manages to make that happen for people, even the ones who don't believe in it.
I still owe the propane guy and the dentist and the hand surgeon but I'm not worried about it right now. Somehow, I believe that it will all work out according to plan. And it ain't mine.