The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

I tell Samantha about camping with my parents, catching lightning bugs in cupped hands, listening to Mom’s firelight stories, waking to dew on the tent and bacon sizzling on the fire. Propped on her pillow, she sighs, wishing she had a family like mine.

I wish I still did, too, since mine isn’t like that anymore. But something occurs to me: families come in all kinds of shapes, not always matching last names. What makes one is what you do together, the memories you build. The way she jokes with Uncle Gard, the way Mrs. Hawkins fusses over her, the way Grandmary sets rules to keep her safe, that’s a family, and a great one. I’ll miss it when I leave.

Samantha goes quiet for a moment, though I catch her smiling in the moonlight, saying she’ll miss me, too, whenever that day comes.

Long after Samantha’s asleep, I lie awake under the open, starry sky, turning it all over in my mind. I helped her see the family already around her, and now I’m thinking about mine. What makes a family is what you do together, the memories you make. When I get home, I’m going to step out of that room and scrapbook with Gracie and my stepmom. Maybe I’ll ask Dad about camping this summer, and ask if Gracie can come, too, so we can start making memories of our own.