How Important Is Getting There? (Epilogue)

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Epilogue

There's a feeling that waits in a pit resting somewhere at the bottom of your heart. It never tells you what it is, or when it's going to surface, but when it does, it does, and you'll know what it is. There isn't a name for it, and no amount of words can ever describe it. At best, you can probably say it's a peaceful, magical feeling, but even that severely demotes it.


It surfaces when you see that first snowflake drop outside your window at midnight. Or when you sit on a bench near a lake on a sunny day and all you can see is a sequence of glimmering lights dancing on the water. The first waking hour of your summer vacation. The first day of not getting lost in a strange country that doesn't speak your language. The first time you get a standing ovation from an audience. Finishing a book wishing you were one of the letters that lives in it. Finding a toothbrush with your name on it in a house that you've just walked into, and you know that this time, you've just walked into a home.

Looking at the rear-view mirror, Penny sees that the other two are busy pointing at things outside their windows. And from the sound of it, they've morphed into high school girls once again— the squealing kind. Rose sees an ice cream parlor that witnessed most of their afternoons years ago, and without looking away from it, her hand frantically searches for Chiquita's and tugs it. Once Chiquita lays her eyes on the parlor, the squealing that died down after they passed their old high school starts again. Penny and Tara shake their heads and share a knowing smile.

They're two minutes away from worn out light blue picket fences now. They passed rows and rows of houses on the way and they start to feel like they're witnessing the foam you get from filling a cup with soda. It's there, bubbling up and up and up, until it overflows and all you get is what you want.

She's turning the wheel now. Left. Onto a driveway of a grey house with the light blue picket fences they were looking out for. And as if on cue, the squeals and chatters from the backseat stop.

Penny looks over to her right. Tara sits still, beaming quietly looking out the window. Penny puts the gear on park, turns off the engine, and mimics Tara and her stillness. She closes her eyes and breathes as slowly as possible as if it will help the world spin slower.

Penny starts to replay everything that happened in the diner. Does it hurt? Sure it does. But now she knows that she wasn't really angry at Tara. Well, maybe a little bit at first, but she was more disappointed at herself for caring too much about her dream that she wishes it away, even when that dream involves all four of them.

Sometimes people live in different places and that's what makes them apart. But sometimes people are just... apart. Penny hears in her head what Chiquita said at the diner just before Rose requested a group hug that they finally did after a few groans and eye rolls.

Apart. She doesn't want that. None of them do. If there's anything she's learned over the last couple of years, being "apart" sucks big time.

Penny takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. She looks at the mirror and sees Rose smiling reassuringly at her. Penny returns her smile.

So Penny's afraid. So what? She knows that for the rest of her life, she will always be. She will always be afraid to lose everything, but at the same time, that tells her that she has everything. And yes, it will always be enough.

A tap, tap, tap on Rose's window snaps Penny right out of her thoughts. Right outside the car are Dot and Sally.

“Can't believe you girls are finally here,” Dot says as Rose opens her door. “Felt like forever,” she adds and gives Rose a kiss on the forehead. Then she grabs Chiquita and gives her a hug, telling her that her mom is having a panic attack in the kitchen over a pastry dough that wouldn't rise. The three of them laugh.

Sally taps Tara's window, “is your dancing butt too good for my hugs now?"

“Hi, mom,” Tara laughs, stepping out of the car. She, too, gets a kiss on the forehead and a big bear hug. “Miss you,” Tara whispers into Sally's hair.

“And how's my other baby,” Sally asks, opening her arms for Penny.

Penny walks over to Sally. “Sorry for getting here so late,” she says as she hugs Sally.

“It's OK, honey. Bumpy road,” Sally asks.

“The worst kind,” Chiquita answers.

“But they're all patched up now,” Rose quickly adds with a smile before they all walk together into the house.

There's a feeling that waits in a pit resting somewhere at the bottom of your heart. It never tells you what it is, or when it's going to surface, but when it does, it does, and you'll know what it is. When Penny, Tara, Rose, and Chiquita look up to meet each other's eyes and see that they weren't talking about potholes, they know.

Penny knows.



(end.)