You used to say that you loved me like your own, that I was as close as Harry and Aaron were to your heart. I was uncertain of the sincerity of your statement, but argue I did not.
You were our haven when all went wrong. But I was mistaken to have thought your love was extended only when in crisis.
You loved us all, and your love was boundless. I never realized its weight until you bid me a surprise visit, two years after I had departed. When your eyes landed on my sleep-deprived face, you squealed and threw your arms around me, repeating profusely how much you missed me. I didn't return the embrace, I was far too shocked and grumpy to do so.
Standing behind you was everyone, all eight of you were looking back at me with excited faces; however, yours was the brightest.
As I guided you all through my cramped college dorm, you explained that you all were here to celebrate Christmas of 2011 with me. Two consecutive years without my presence were awfully long, you have said, pinching my cheek. Yet I wondered how everyone was able come all the way here; pecuniary shortages were a concern too familiar.
You brushed it off, claiming that you've been saving since I was a kid. Despite me not believing you, I still didn't put much thought into it.
I wish I did, though.
I was unaware of your source of extra cash, until your Nathan, your coworker, informed me. It was one of the many things he has told me, and they weren't any good. He said you had worked extra shifts for well over two months, and at some point you held a second job just to cover your sons' daily expenses. If only I thought about it for a little more, I would've appreciated your arrival in the way I should've, and not be as grumpy as I was.
And for Aunt Sophia, I am terribly sorry.
