Memories in Jars

Chapter 24

Author's Note: That moment when you promise to upload the final chapter of a story in a week on a specific Friday and then randomly upload it on a Sunday quite a few days after the promised update.

This is my life.

Hi, readers.  I'm in a bit of a daze.  Why, you might ask.  Well, it's because I've just (literally, within the past ten minues) finished writing Memories in Jars.  The whole entire book.  It's done.  And here, on Wattpad.  Wowza.  

Okay, okay.  I'll stop.

This chapter is updated with much thanks to: GlisteningHalos and thewritingviolinist, my two biggest fans, my many new followers (THANK YOU), peanut butter cookies with peanut butter cups, delicious popcorn, pizza, Simon and Garfunkel, Nat King Cole, pesto, air conditioning, Veronica Mars, and, last but not least, my siblings.

Enjoy! Please vote and comment.

xoxo

Kay (dreamer44)

____________________________________________

----- Annabelle -----

            We sat at the table, our special own trio: the O’Connor siblings.  And it was about to disband: it was our last meal all together.  Ian was leaving in an hour, just after lunch, when Natalie was coming to pick him up.  The two of them had been carting their things in daily loads to school for the past week, and classes began in a few days, so today the two of them were driving up with the last, miscellaneous things.

            But right now, it was just the three of us, just like it had been for most of our lives.  Countless times, we had sat together, in this configuration, at the table: Leigh on the left side, facing the kitchen, and Ian and I across from her, facing the living room.

            Over summer vacation one year, our parents had decided that the three of us were old enough to stay home without a sitter while they were at work.  Ian was fourteen, plenty old enough to stay home alone, but I was only eight and need some TLC.  So, each day, Leigh and Ian would make lunch for me, while I was relegated to more menial tasks such as setting the table or putting baby carrots on each plate.  Ian became the master of the grilled cheese and ham sandwiches, Leigh the queen of macaroni and cheese.  After they cooked, we would sit and eat together.

            I had the best time then, with my siblings.  I felt like the luckiest little sister in the world.  Ian and Leigh would always laugh at everything I said—I had been pretty humorous as a little girl.  Ian would make up stories and tell them to us as we ate.  Leigh was feeling experimental that summer, and each day would mix different things together to try and make the “perfect summer drink.”  The best thing that she came up with was orange juice and seltzer, though she did channel some real creativity with creations like pineapple juice mixed with V8 tomato juice.

            Today, we mirrored our younger selves.  We were eating macaroni and cheese, albeit a fancy recipe containing fresh mozzarella, gorgonzola, and parmesan that Leigh had decided to try.  I had cut up a few carrots into little strips, like the baby carrots that we used to eat.

            “It’s good,” I told Leigh, smiling, though inside I was devastated that my siblings were once again deserting me for bigger and better things while I remained at home, alone.

            “Needs more salt,” she said, chewing thoughtfully.

            “It’s a perfect last meal at home,” said Ian, shoveling the pasta in his mouth like a man who was starved.