UNEDITED
Not all storms come to disrupt your life, some come to clear your path.
Those are the words that Justin McCallister has been repeating in his mind since the day he was diagnosed with a non-cancerous brain tumour that's been causing partial...
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Adelaide
My alarm goes off at 7:00 a.m., but I'm already awake. I've been awake for an hour, tossing and turning, counting the lines across my flannel bedspread, and trying to think about anything but school. I wanted to get that extra hour of sleep, yet my mind wouldn't allow it. Today has got my stomach in knots and my head full of ants.
"Ads!" I hear Dad's voice call from behind my bedroom door. "Are you awake?"
Shutting off the song that's playing, I roll out of bed and trudge to the door, opening it. "Yeah?" I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Dad flashes me one of his bright smiles. "Mom took the later shift, so she's making you three breakfast. Thought I'd let you know before your brothers woke up, smelled the bacon, and ate everything before you had a chance."
I giggle. "Dad. Are you calling your sons pigs?"
He winks at me. "They're growing boys, Ads."
"Thanks, Dad. I'll be down in a minute."
The noise of pots and pans clanging together echoes up the stairs. Although Mom is a fabulous cook (not as amazing as Dad, but still fabulous), she's a total klutz. Thank God I didn't inherit that gene.
Dad shakes his head. "Better go help her before she burns the kitchen down."
"I second that," I nod.
When Dad's gone, I shut my bedroom door and quickly strip out of my pyjamas, changing into faded skinny jeans that have been ripped at the knees, a round neck long sleeve plaid pullover shirt, slip on some white Keds, fix my hair, and then head downstairs to the kitchen.
A galore of buttermilk pancakes (my grandma's family recipe), bacon, cut-up fruit, toast, and scrambled eggs are laid out across the island. Freshly squeezed orange juice fills five glasses.
"Morning, Addie," Mom says. She's wearing her dark purple scrubs and there's a light dusting of flour over them. Her hair has been tied up into a bun today.
"Morning, Mom," I reply, sitting down in my usual spot.
I would dish myself up, but the first day of school – no matter the age or grade – is the one day where my parents insist upon serving the kids. Jake, Alex, and I have tried to argue and say we are capable of doing this on our own, but Mom and Dad secretly love doing it, so we eventually gave up and let them keep doing it.
I watch as Dad piles my plate high with pancakes, strawberries, and raspberry syrup. He also adds in a couple pieces of bacon and some extra strawberries.
"Thanks, Dad," I smile as he pushes the plate in my direction.
Dad, being the man that he is, walks around the island and ruffles my hair, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead. "Can't believe you're a senior," he murmurs, blinking rapidly. "Where did the time go?"
