Returning

Written by Liz Frisbie of Richard Montgomery

As we turned onto the once-familiar streets of my grandma’s house, my mind wandered back to the few Easters I’d spent here when I was very young. Years ago, that house had been the gathering place of the family; aunts and uncles and cousins would come from all over the country to take part in my grandpa’s legendary egg hunt. But ever since he became sick some years ago, the burden had fallen on my dad to keep up with Easter traditions. The first year he hosted it at our house, he tried his hardest to make the party exactly like those of his father. However, it just wasn’t the same. Something was missing. I sighed, wishing for what seemed to be the thousandth time that he’d tried just a little bit harder before canceling the egg hunt in favor of a potluck. This year, though, I decided to cut him some slack. Grandpa had just died a month ago, after all.

I looked up to see my dad watching me through the rear-view mirror.

“We’re almost at Grandma’s house,” he said, forcing a smile. My dad had been hit hard by his father’s death, and it didn’t help that my grandma had decided to host the Easter party this year in his honor. Going back to his childhood home would’ve been hard normally, but without his father to greet him, my dad was overcome with grief. My mom put a comforting hand on his shoulder as we turned onto my grandma’s street.

My heart dropped as I spied a faded looking red van parked in my grandma’s driveway. It belonged to my dad’s brother. What is he doing here? I wondered. Right before my grandpa got sick, my uncle had suddenly stopped contacting us. He never told us, but I’m sure that my dad blamed his brother for their father’s long illness.

As my dad wedged the car into the small space left in the driveway, my heart dropped even further. If my uncle was here, my dad would be even more stressed than he already was. The car pulled to a stop, the squealing of brakes making us all flinch. Moving as one, we unbuckled our seatbelts slowly, knowing that stepping into the house would mean accepting that Grandpa was truly gone. But I pushed forward and sprang up to the front porch, the rest of my family trailing behind.

After one knock, the door fell inward to reveal the form of my grandma, stooped with both years and grief. As we exchanged greetings, I peered inside, hoping to spy my uncle. Our eyes met briefly, and he gave me a small wave before I had time to retreat to safety. Suddenly, I was ushered into the front foyer and shoved in front of my uncle.

“My… you’ve grown so much,” he said, awestruck.

“Well, you haven’t seen me since I was ten, so of course I have,” I shot back, angry with him for my dad’s sake.

“Hey! Be nice to your uncle.” My dad came over, rolling his eyes as he went. “Teenagers, am I right?” He awkwardly held out his hand and almost dropped it back down before his brother finally grasped it. Then they pulled each other in for an embrace, laughing with glee, their eyes wet with years of unshed tears. I just stared. How could they be acting like no time had passed? Was my father angry at all?

“Hey.” My uncle broke through my thoughts. “I, uh, have some people I want you to meet.” He walked deeper into my grandma’s house, motioning for me to follow.

“Hey, guys,” he said as he entered the living room, “meet your cousin.” I peered into the room, my eyes widening in surprise as two sets of big, curious eyes peered back. The children they belonged to seemed to be around four and five.

“After I was, you know,” he wiggled his fingers to form air quotes, “banished from here, I got married and had some kids.”

My eyes opened so much that I thought they were going to fall out. “You were banished?” I stumbled out. I thought that my uncle had just left of his own accord.

“Yeah, kid, I was.” He stared into the distance. “Things happen, you know?” I nodded, my anger dissipating. I was about to catch up with him more, but my grandma beckoned me to the big kitchen table to prepare for lunch and other guests’ arrivals. My dad and uncle, I noticed, went the opposite way—to the garden.

“I’m so glad everyone made it!” she cried when everyone was gathered, her gaze settling on my uncle. “I know this has been a hard time for everyone, and we are all remembering my husband.” She paused and took a deep breath, trying not to cry. “And so, I wanted to throw one last Easter party in his name. My sons,” she gestured toward my dad and his brother, “put together an egg hunt just like their father used to. I hope you all enjoy it and have fun.” She threw open the doors to the backyard. “Now go hunt some eggs!”

As my cousins rushed out into the yard, eager to win the long-awaited hunt, I looked around, my eyes falling on my uncle and dad who were joking around like they used to. My face stretched out into a warm smile as I realized that it wasn’t a what that had been missing from my dad’s Easters, but rather a who.