to carry Bear on my back as I walk around, saying hello to everyone. I’m especially friendly to those people who don’t want to see me.
Future does well in the Woodlands, making lots of friends. However, I often worry he’ll lose his innocence after seeing all the toys the other kids own. So far, my little brother doesn’t care about video games or television. He’d rather play outside or draw.
Future remains Mama’s shadow, following her around most days. His favorite thing is the atrium, where he’s responsible for an entire row of plants. My brother often asks for a pet. Anders says he might be okay with a dog. I’m leaning toward parakeets that we can stick in another room when they get noisy. With three young children running around barefoot all the time, I want to avoid pets that poop on the ground.
During her time in the Woodlands, Dove learns to be herself. Sometimes, she joins Summer for teenage antics. Other times, she plays dolls with Sidonie and Desi. Having Papa’s pictures has helped soothe her broken heart, but she still wipes her face whenever anxious. My sister’s scars won’t disappear any more than Anders’s can. They’re a part of them now.
The summer Chili turns one, Anders drives our family to Florida to visit the Dandelions. My grand sequoia doesn’t hide his worries well, especially when everyone greets us with such warmth. He looks at me with the panicked eyes of a man thinking he’s being left behind.
“If it’s not too difficult, could we drive here each year?” I ask, during our first night at the commune as our family sits together in a circle outside the main hall. “Like a pilgrimage, where we rekindle our Dandelion ways.”
Anders exhales with relief so loudly that Chili and Future look concerned. I lean against his arm and smile up at his handsome face.
“This isn’t our home,” I whisper. “We live in Ohio.”
Sensing Anders’s fear hasn’t quite disappeared, Mama says, “We’ve learned how to live in your world. I’m spoiled now. If I don’t feel well, I can make a telephone call to have food delivered. This commune offers many blessings, but that kind of luxury isn’t one of them.”
Dove smiles at Anders. “And we have a pool.”
Future adds, “Yep,” since he doesn’t really understand what we’re talking about.
“You built a big, beautiful house and then waited for us to find you,” I say, squeezing his hand as Chili relaxes in his lap. “Now, our family is together with space to grow.”
After our reassuring words, Anders no longer fears visiting the Dandelion Collective in Florida. He enjoys his time with people who don’t care what he’s done in his past. They welcome him in the same way they accept everyone. Even after what the government did in Indiana, the Dandelions didn’t harden their hearts.
Occasionally, I imagine a different story where the Dandelions welcome Anders into the commune. That’s how he and I meet and begin our journey together. In many stories, over many lifetimes, Anders and I are drawn to each other. In some, he’s the strong one, and I’m broken. In others, we’re both broken. In a few, we’re both healthy. We experience so many ways to find each other and fall in love. And every story is beautiful.
ANDERS
I ought to listen to my gut more. As a kid, I often went against what it was telling me. I didn’t rat out my grandparents or run away. Though I believed I was being smart, I really just let fear guide me.
My gut also warned me about trusting Melanie and taking my first hit of heroin. After a childhood spent ignoring its advice, I didn’t listen.
But, when my gut told me to seek out Bronco and find a new home in Elko, I finally followed the path it suggested.
And when my gut begged me to keep returning to Pixie despite knowing I was acting like an idiot and lying to my president, I obeyed.
These days, my gut and I are on the same page. No longer do I let the noise in my head distract me.
Painting the house’s interior was my gut speaking up, saying I had tastes of my own. I needed to make my mark.
My gut told me having a baby with Pixie so soon would work out. And Chili proves to be an easy child to raise.
So, when my gut insists kid number three should be our last, I ask Pixie if we can stop after Sequoia.