Catch the Wind: My Journey with Caroline

Once I’m back in my own time, I stay stretched out on the grass by the pond letting everything I just lived through settle into my mind. Eventually I climb up and head for home along the path.

In the backyard, a blanket drapes over the picnic table. Crouching to peer beneath it, I discover Britney and Sasha throwing a tea party for their dolls inside their makeshift fort, plastic dishes and all. I think of Caroline, and of the real military forts rising around Sackets Harbor. It’s hard to breathe, imagining my sisters growing up somewhere forts were never just for pretend.

When my voice finally feels normal, I ask if they’re having fun. Both girls watch me warily, as though braced for another round of yelling, and Britney asks if I’m still mad. I tell her I’m not, and offer to join their game later. That’s all it takes to brighten their whole mood. They love spending time with me, and truthfully, I love it just as much.

Walking back toward the house, I realize how it isn’t a big deal to just spend time with them. Then, an idea strikes: my best friend loves acting, and she’d probably jump at helping the twins put together a skit for Dad. It would keep them busy and distracted from missing Mom, and give me a fun excuse to join in, too.

I let myself in through the back door. Mom’s nowhere in sight, but Dad’s at the counter slicing cheese. I greet him quietly, and he sets the knife aside and waits for me to speak. I apologize for yelling earlier.

He smiles, calls me his girl, and lets it go, since he’s never been one to stay mad for long. I ask if he needs help, and he steps back from the cutting board, admitting he’d started the macaroni and cheese but will be late for work if he doesn’t get moving soon.

I ask where Mom is. Dad explains that she’s writing an email to friends and family who are worried about her and want to stay in touch while she’s away at sea.

I realize I’ve been so wrapped up in my own worries that I never once considered everyone else who’s going to miss Mom just as much. Finishing the macaroni and cheese is the one real thing I can do today.

I pick up the knife and get started. Dad squeezes my shoulder, grateful, and I tell him it’s no problem at all. He can count on me.