Suzie's and her family's visit only improved our fun adventure as a family. My sister and I spent some time crying memories of our mother, out of sight of spouses and kids, but in doing so cleared the way for an otherwise happy weekend. We all enjoyed each other's company. Surprisingly, Paul and Suzie's husband Ben got along fabulously well in spite of being worlds apart in background and life style.
Ben was a simple guy, simple in an uncomplicated way, content with a six pack of beer and Monday night football. Suzie idolizes him and stopped kidding about his mental shortcomings after the first few years of contented marriage. They were always short of funds, with never enough money to make repairs or keep the crabgrass from encroaching on my childhood home.
Ben did something at a factory I never quite understood but it generated enough money to keep food on the table and provide the basic necessities of their simple life. Suzie tossed in her share to the family till with a series of short-lived jobs, but now with the return of accumulated rent money and a chance at college and a career, things ahead looked rosier. Happiness comes in different size packages and theirs was, if not gilded or jeweled, at least tightly wrapped.
We romped nonstop through the three days they were with us. A bushel of hot dogs was consumed and games enough played to exhaust an Olympian. Paul rented a large boat and we spent hours in and on the water. There was less time to talk to my sister then I'd liked but being around her was a big help, to both of us. I think Paul spoke to her about my depression or I wasn't good at hiding it because in one of our few moments in private Suzie asked if I needed help. I tried to brush off her concern. I didn't want to talk about me. I wanted desperately to confide what I'd learned from Karen. I felt dishonest to my sister in not telling her what we were going through but it was neither the time nor place for disclosing such private and complex information.
Our robust daily activities and Timmy's early bedtime put us in our tents far earlier than back home in Summerside. Paul stayed up, often chatting with other campers but I retired early with Karen. She seemed to appreciate my presence and reported no recent nightmares.
A nighttime ritual was born. Paul would call out, "I love you, Sarah."
Timmy would call, "I love you Mom, as much as a not-burnt marshmallow."
Paul would respond, "I love you Karen, as much as a bed without rocks!" And so it would go around our campsite, with each trying to outdo the other, as I and my sister had done so many times.