The Last Summer Theory

I read a post someone wrote called The Last Summer Theory and it felt immediately familiar.

Every family has one summer where everyone is still in it together. Still alive, still close, still occupying the same rough places in each other’s lives. It doesn’t have to be a good summer. It just has to be the one where everyone is still there.

Nobody knows which summer that is while they’re living it. That’s the whole theory.

My brother was always at our family reunions. Until he wasn’t. His widow eventually found love again, and then lost that husband too, just as suddenly. Lightning struck the same family twice. Neither family knew when they were living their last ordinary days together.

Families are always changing shape. People move, drift, age, leave. Sometimes suddenly, sometimes so gradually you don’t notice until you’re looking back and the version of the family you had is already gone.

So stay for the burnt dinner. Stay for the long phone call you almost let go to voicemail. Stay for the afternoon that looks like nothing, because I know now that the ones that look like nothing are sometimes the ones that matter most.