Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters)

Just as the sun rises.

With the six of us on this hill and the packed lake house behind us—I feel sentiments far beyond this sunrise, this morning, this moment. We filled an empty house.

I’m thirty-seven.

Just yesterday I was twenty and meeting some of these people—people that I’d spend my life with, that’d become my home.

Just yesterday I was twenty—still deeply and desperately in love with my best friend.

I grew older.

We all grow older.

In a blink of an eye, our children will grow old too.

And I’ll think: just yesterday they were twenty. Headed for college. Falling in love. Memories will flood behind us, the lake house no longer filled to the brim. As quiet as the moment we first walked in—and we’ll sit on this hill. Feeling the stillness that exists.

And then we end—we end where we started.

Just us.

All six of us.

Our four kids and floppy-eared basset hound stand on the hillside, a common spot because of the rope swing tied to a maple branch. Moffy raises a set of portable speakers, Bangarang by Skrillex booming. Luna, Xander, and Kinney—they wave out to us and lift up a sign together that reads: we love you!

They were a part of this surprise all along.

I laugh and cry simultaneously again. As we watch our kids, joy coating their faces, childlike wonder in their eyes, I remember every moment I spent with Lo where we said we can’t. Where we said we shouldn’t. Not people like us. This isn’t meant for us.

I realize something. So I tell him.

“I think we finally deserve this.”

Tears spill out of his eyes, and he says, “I believe it, too.”

Lo digs a hand into his jean’s pocket and reveals a delicate silver chain. A red heart-shaped ruby encircled with diamonds dangles at the end.

The shape, the style—it’s an exact replica of my engagement ring.

“Lo,” I breathe, more tears surging.

He unclips the necklace. “I gave you my heart a long time ago, and I’m not sure I remind you enough that you still have it. All of it.” Lo leans into me and fits the jewelry around my neck.

I start to cry, clutching his waist. In the middle of this quiet lake. They’re snot-nosed tears.

“Lil,” he whispers, wiping my face with his shirt. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I don’t have anything for you.”

He laughs at me.

“It’s not funny,” I cry but that morphs into a tearful laugh that rattles my heart.

Lo kisses my cheek, smiling, and he whispers, “You’ve already given me everything, love.”