“Lyra, you better not send me here when I'm too old to wipe my own butt!” my dad yells from the front seat. While he goes on with his many jokes, I look down at my fingers, each one bloody with skin torn off, a nasty, nervous habit. I look out my window to see the full view of the retirement home, a shiny new building with extensive landscaping and beautiful flowers, probably to give some life to the dying environment. My parents and I step out of the car, walk in, and there they are, sitting right in front of the building, eager to see us. In the sweetest tone you can imagine, my mom welcomes her aunt into her arms. "Barb... I’ve missed you.” I stand awkwardly alongside my dad until my grand-aunt looks at me and takes my hands into hers. “Look at her face; she's beautiful," she says with earnestness. I thank her and laugh while my cheeks get rosy. After introductions, Barb and her husband Frank insist on giving us a tour of their domain. The place smells old and withering even though the building looks brand new. “Isn't this property beautiful? You would think we're rich by the look of it! But you know we aren't; we really aren't.” The room feels small but has a lovely balcony and nice windows that let in all the light. We sit down, everyone else on the couch, while I opt for the floor so I can play with their dog, Zinnia. “This is wonderful, guys. Are you happy you're here?” my mom asks. "It's lonely here," Barb says, but as she talks, the conversation fades out in my head.

My mind wanders. I see the true frailty of the people in front of me. Barb's hands shake relentlessly, and Frank's awareness slips every so often. I look at my mom's face; her expression is sorrowful but empathetic at the same time. “Do you remember when we used to sing hymns?” my mother asked Barb and Frank. “Where is that hymn book?” She starts to shuffle around to find it. “Here it is! The same one from when I was a kid. " Her eyes shimmer with excitement. The book was bright yellow from age, and the pages were mature. We all gather around to take a peek, each hymn with a different message full of hope, love, and God. We flip through the words until my mom stops and starts to sing one to herself. “This is my father's world, and to my listening ears, all nature sings and round me rings." As the verses continue, my grand-aunt and grand-uncle join.

Before we visited the retirement home, my mom confessed that Barb was her least favorite aunt. She talked about her childhood and how she was always so scared of Barb. But at this moment, none of that matters. The only thing that remained was the connection, the blood that brings us together. Tears leaked from my mother's face as they all continued to sing, “Why should my heart be sad? The Lord is king; let the heavens ring! God reigns; let earth be glad!” They finished the tune with tears and laughs, and a part of my mom's heart healed. “Thank you, this meant a lot to me,” my mom says, facing Barb and Frank. They take a pause, and she hugs them both, a long lingering hug, and then we leave.

© Lyra. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.