<\/p>\n
*This is a story I wrote about a house I passed all the time growing up, with an old man in a chair who\u2019d always sit on the curve and watch the cars go by. Every time we drove past, he seemed to always be there. I hadn\u2019t driven that way again until I was much older, when I drove by and saw that the chair was empty. After a while, I assumed he passed away. Another chair joined that one and eventually, they were both replaced with a bench. I always wondered what happened to that man, and I wanted to write a story to fill in the blanks.<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n My father was, above all, a quiet man. He never raised his voice at me or my twin sister Taylor, even when we knew we deserved it. He\u2019d just look at us and shake his head, and we knew we\u2019d done wrong, and we wouldn\u2019t push him further. That\u2019s the kind of man he was, the kind of father everyone wanted. He made us latkes every Hanukkah and taught my sister how to throw a football and worshiped my mother like royalty. He taught me how to fish in the creek next to our house, not in a hyper-masculine sense, but because it was quiet and we could really talk, and it felt like there was nobody else but us in the world. And he wanted to talk to me.<\/p>\n One day we were sitting on rocks by the stream, holding fishing poles, not having much luck. We never really had much luck fishing. \u201cJohnny boy,\u201d he said, face glistening with sweat, hair slowly graying. I knew he was aging. \u201cYou should get Mom something for her birthday. You and Tay. That\u2019d mean a lot to her.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled. I liked that he still called me Johnny boy. I was seventeen, and it felt nice to hold onto some of my childhood. It was late July, meaning we\u2019d be eighteen in a month, and had three weeks until college. I wanted to hold onto whatever childhood I could.<\/p>\n We walked up to the house, my mom waving to us from the yard on a blanket, reading a book. Our house, just outside Princeton, sat back from a sharp 90 degree curve, and my mom loved to sit right in front of where it curves and watch the cars go by. We all loved to do that. That was our spot, where we\u2019d toss a football growing up or have picnics or lay down and look at the stars. I used to spend hours in the grass in the summer, watching the cars go by and imagining stories about their lives. It was a quiet road, but that was the beauty of it. Every car was driving down this road for a reason. Each person with their own life we\u2019d never know, intersecting with ours for just a moment, then perhaps never again.<\/p>\n I knocked on Tay\u2019s door. \u201cWe\u2019re gonna go pick up a present for Mom. Maybe Dad too. I have the perfect idea.\u201d<\/p>\n Tay opened the door begrudgingly, pretending I bothered her, but I knew she had nothing better to do. But still, something about being a twin makes you competitive.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll go,\u201d she said through a yawn, \u201dbut you\u2019re driving.\u201d I shrugged in agreement and she followed me to the car. When we walked out the front door, she hid her smile at the rock in the front yard. My dad painted a tiny rainbow on it when she brought home a girlfriend the year before. She acts embarrassed but I can tell it\u2019s all she\u2019s ever wanted. She smiles every time.<\/p>\n We walked over to my car, a beaten-up beige Nissan Altima that must\u2019ve been at least 20 years old. It was my grandmother\u2019s, then my dad\u2019s, then he passed it on to me and Tay to share. The back window was held up with duct tape and a sock, and the passenger door opened only a quarter of the way, but I loved that thing. It had personality. \u201cWe\u2019re gonna get chairs from Home Depot,\u201d I said, closing the driver\u2019s door.<\/p>\n \u201cYou woke me up for this?\u201d Tay asked. \u201cTo buy chairs?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did,\u201d I smirked. \u201cIt\u2019s a good gift. We always sit in the yard on blankets and our backs kill us after. I don\u2019t know why it\u2019s taken this long to buy chairs.\u201d I looked both ways and turned right out of the driveway.<\/p>\n \u201cThat is true,\u201d Tay nodded. \u201cGood call. We should pick up some flowers for Mom, too.\u201d<\/p>\n I turned up the music in agreement, and we pulled up to Home Depot a couple minutes later. We walked in, and I took a big whiff. I loved the smell of Home Depot. Tay went off to find flowers while I went to the garden section.<\/p>\n I found a pair of rocking chairs that looked like they\u2019d do the job. They were tan and wooden, cheap enough to survive outside. \u201cThose are perfect,\u201d said Tay, holding a vase of roses.<\/p>\n \u201cThose are too,\u201d I nodded at the flowers. \u201cGood job, team,\u201d I said sarcastically, and we high fived. Though we were kind of a good team.<\/p>\n An employee helped us get the chairs in the car, and we drove back home. We carried them inside, along with the roses, and set them down in the living room in front of my mom, where she was reading. \u201cDad!\u201d I yelled, \u201cCome here.\u201d<\/p>\n He walked down the stairs as my mom stood up from the couch. \u201cHappy early birthday,\u201d Tay grinned, meeting my mom for a hug.<\/p>\n \u201cAw, thank you! That is so sweet,\u201d my mom said, sniffing the roses on the table.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are these for?\u201d my dad asked, inspecting the chairs closely for imperfections, as fathers do.<\/p>\n \u201cFor the yard! We\u2019re always out there but never have anywhere to sit,\u201d I explained. Then I frowned a little. \u201cSorry if you were expecting something better. I know it\u2019s dumb for a birthday gift.\u201d<\/p>\n My parents cut each other off, exclaiming, \u201cNo, no!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe love it,\u201d my mom said. \u201cIt is uncomfortable sitting out there on a blanket. I don\u2019t know why we\u2019ve never thought of a chair.<\/p>\n My dad smiled in agreement, and my mom came in to hug me.<\/p>\n \u201cWe have the best kids,\u201d my dad said to her.<\/p>\n \u201cTrue that,\u201d my mom rustled my hair. I hated that. But I knew I\u2019d miss them, and that I was leaving very soon.<\/p>\n One chair was kept in that living room, while the other went to the yard. Soon enough, I was packing my things and heading to school. Lafayette was only an hour and a half away, and Tay would be close by at Lehigh, but I was scared to be alone.<\/p>\n Two months passed before I made it home for Thanksgiving, and I was happy at school, but I missed my family. When my mom picked me up from school and we pulled back into the driveway, my dad was sitting in that chair, just looking out. \u201cHe\u2019s been spending a lot of time there,\u201d my mom said. \u201cWatching cars go by, reading, talking to the neighbors.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled a weak smile. I knew he was getting old.<\/p>\n As the years went on, he stopped speaking as much. I\u2019d come home and he was still my dad, but there was less and less of him each time. He started forgetting things he shouldn\u2019t forget. And he was always in that spot. I didn\u2019t know what he did, sitting there for all those hours. Our neighbors always talked to him, and the people who hiked the trails near our house would always wave, but I didn\u2019t understand why he was always there.<\/p>\n He was diagnosed with dementia years later, well into his 70s. Tay and I, barely scraping 40, tried to visit often. Tay married a girl named Betty she met at Lehigh, and they adopted two boys, aged five and seven. They lived in Princeton, so visiting was no problem for them. I met a girl named Alex my junior year of college, and we got married right before I turned 30. We had a girl named Nat, and we lived over the river in New Hope, Pennsylvania.<\/p>\n Nat was six years old the first time my father forgot her name. We visited all the time, but it was hard watching him lose himself. It was even harder for my mom. He would sit outside in the chair all the time, doing nothing, and all my mom could do was watch.<\/p>\n He passed away three years later, right before my 42nd birthday. By the time he passed, we knew it was coming, but it was still devastating. My mom took it the hardest. Tay went to take care of her every day, but eventually Tay would have to leave, and she\u2019d be alone again. One day, she moved the living room chair outside next to its matching counterpart, where she would sit. One afternoon I came over to make her lunch, and we sat in those chairs in the warm glow of the sun.<\/p>\n \u201cI sit here a lot,\u201d she said. \u201cJust like he used to. Sometimes if I close my eyes, it\u2019s like he\u2019s still here.\u201d She closed her eyes and laid her head back.<\/p>\n My mom passed away not long after from a heart attack. While we expected my father\u2019s death, my mom\u2019s was unexpected. It hit us hard, and she was only 75. She always told us she\u2019d live to 100.<\/p>\n Tay and I sold the house to a young family with a dog. Our entire lives, sold to someone who\u2019d never know us. My job relocated us to Texas, but Tay stayed in Princeton. I missed her, but there wasn\u2019t much left for Alex and I here.<\/p>\n One Thanksgiving we were visiting Tay, and I told her I had to run to the store for cranberry sauce. I can\u2019t remember if that was my intention at first. But I got into the car, and I knew where I had to go, and soon enough I was at a 90 degree bend in the road. The house, repainted tan, was still home. Bushes were planted in front of the door. On the curve, a bench sat where two young kids were petting a golden retriever. I knew nothing about their lives. This is what it\u2019s like to be on the other side, <\/em>I thought. As I drove by, the two kids looked at me, and I liked to think they thought the same. They knew nothing about my life. A tear ran down my cheek. I drove away, and didn\u2019t look back.<\/p>\n
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