by Jessica Waddle.

A bright ray of California sunshine greets my family and I as we leave the airport. A squeal disturbs the silence of the morning and a flash of curly, red hair tackles us, nearly making us fall over on the black concrete.

“I’m so excited that you’re all here! Oh my gosh! Joey, she looks just like you. She’s beautiful,” she said.

I peek out from behind my mom’s leg and look at my Aunt Christi for the first time. The scent of strawberries invades my nose as she pulls me into a tight hug.

The adventure that would soon unfold was almost too much for my 6-year-old mind to handle. We went to Disneyland and met all of the Disney princesses and we walked the beach and collected washed-up seashells, warm sand covering our toes.

* * *

Suitcase in hand, I make my way through the crowded New York airport, looking for the familiar head of bright, curly, red hair. I spot her small, dancer’s frame. She starts walking, quicker and quicker, until we’re in each other’s arms. The familiar smell of strawberries fills my nose for the second time.

” So, Miss Jessica… What’s going on with the whole newspaper situation?” She said.

I see the all too familiar glint in her eye as she tucks her pajama-clad legs underneath her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re going to be editor, right? It doesn’t hurt to try. Just do it.”

She notices my hesitance.

“Look, you’ll regret it if you don’t. I know you’ll be great,”

I nod my head. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. I love you Aunt Christi,”

“Well, I love you too WaddleBaby,” She said, hugging me from the side.

* * *

My hand writes the all-too familiar address on the bulging manila envelope.

“Is that for Christi?” my dad asks.

“Yep. I’m thinking about writing her a letter. What made her stop talking to you anyway?”

He shrugs.

“I wish I knew,” my dad said, walking away.

My phone vibrates on the kitchen table. 1 missed call, 1 new voicemail.

I type in my password and listen.

“Hi Jessica, this is your Aunt Christi-Shan. I was hoping that you liked your Christmas gift and if you didn’t, that’s okay too. I really wish that your father and I could be friends…”

At that moment all I want to do is give up. My finger finds the end button.

As much as I want to be mad and never talk to her again, something in the back of my mind keeps me from reaching that point. Without my family, my Aunt Christi included, I would be lost. Even though we argue and misunderstand each other, at some point we have surrender and say “I love you”.