The Summer I Learned to Dive - By Shannon McCrimmon Page 0,76

“Do any of us ever know what we’re doing? All I know is that it feels right,” I added.

“I’m going to miss you, Finn. It’s always been us and now you have another life that I’m not a part of. It’s not the same,” she said and frowned.

“You’re still a part of my life. It’s no different than if I had gone to Harrison.” I reached over to hug her. She was startled by my action. We so rarely showed affection like this for each other. That was something I had learned this summer, to be affectionate with the people I loved. She held me tight, as tight as she had ever held me. I let go first and looked at her. She handed me a tissue. I wiped my eyes.

“How was your father?” she asked.

“Amazing. I can tell we have a lot in common. He’ll never be completely healed, but from what I hear the medication he’s on really seems to help,” I told her enthusiastically, happy to share any information I could about him.

She looked down for a moment and quietly said, “That’s good to hear. I think about him,” she confessed to me, still not looking at me.

“He thinks about you,” I replied.

“I can’t see him, Finn,” she shook her head slightly. “I need to remember him as he was, before he left. So much has happened since we last saw each other, so many years have passed. I’ve moved on with my life,” she said.

“Oh,” I said quietly, nodding my head. Maybe they had already said their goodbyes just not face to face. A part of me thought it wasn’t enough for them. They needed closure.

She let out a deep breath and reached over hugging me again. “I love you,” she whispered into my ear.

“I love you, too,” I said.

We talked for hours, about everything she had missed that summer. As time passed, day turned into night. We moved inside to the kitchen, sitting down sharing a bowl of chocolate ice cream and talking with each other, hanging onto every story and every word like it would be our last. I felt the pressure, the weight of time pressed upon us. I knew it would only be a matter of time until she had to leave, to head back to Florida. And in her car, in the passenger seat, I wouldn’t sit. That would be the first sign of my absence, proof that I was staying. We had so much to say to each other, making up for lost time. No matter how angry I was with my mother for lying to me, she had her reasons for doing so. She thought she knew what was best, even though it hurt me in the long run. I could forgive her in time. I wanted to forgive her. Love is about forgiveness.

As the sun rose, its rays shined into my grandparents’ kitchen window. How could the bright and shining light from the sun ever be dreaded? At that time, I wished for the darkness of night because it meant I would have more time with her. I knew things would soon change. Things were already changing. A new part of my life had already begun. We walked outside, standing on the porch.

“I miss the cool summer mornings in the mountains,” she said closing her eyes and smiling, inhaling the pleasant fragrances. She opened her eyes and looked at me.

“It’s my favorite time of day,” I said. She wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly.

“I’ll call you when I get back to Florida.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

“Aren’t you too tired to drive back, Mom?” I asked. Neither of us had slept.

“I’m fine, Finn. I’ll stop on the way if I need to. Right now, I’m wide awake, ready to get back home.”

I reached over to hug her. She let go of me and walked toward her car. She opened the door and sat down in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. She raised her hand and waved goodbye to me.

It was hard watching her leave. I wanted the best of both worlds, to make her happy and myself happy. There was no way to do that. I had to do what was best for me and staying in South Carolina for the time being was what I needed and wanted to do. It just took me eighteen years to figure that out.

I watched her drive away, realizing it would be a long