His chest rose and fell slowly as he lay quietly against the rock. Jeri knew this meant her father was thinking very seriously about the question. After a few seconds, his low voice spoke softly back to her.
“I do miss it sweetheart, much more than you can tell. I know these past few years have brought more than their fair share of changes. Change can be such a difficult thing sometimes… even for me. You’re too young to remember, but when your mother died, I was convinced that nothing ahead of us could ever be as good as what was already gone. But I still had you, my little drooling, diaper-wearing bundle of joy and terror. And as time passed, I came to realize something.”
“What’s that?”
“That all things have no choice but to continually change. And that nothing can escape this fact. Just look at how much you’ve changed in just the past few months – you’re turning into a young woman faster than I can believe! Even this rock we’re laying on is changing… fracturing, eroding, sinking back into the soil.” His hand found her forehead and slowly stroked her hair. “The key to accepting change is realizing the great things you have now, at this very moment in time, because one day I guarantee you’ll look back on today and wish things were just as they are right now.”
“I doubt that,” Jeri replied dejectedly.
Her father lifted his head and gave her a feigning look of surprise. “What? You’re not having fun out here with me?” he asked sarcastically, tousling her hair.
“Well yeah, I’m having fun I guess. But I keep thinking about the fact that you’ll be leaving soon, and when I think about it I get sad all over again.”
Her father laid his head back and said nothing for a few minutes. Jeri was beginning to think he’d fallen asleep when his head nodded slowly and his lips pursed like they always did when he was about to say something important. “It’s okay to be sad sometimes, sweetheart. It helps us appreciate the good times even more. Just try your best not to let it get in the way of making new good times, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Promise?” Her father pressed, tickling her neck.
“I promise!” Jeri replied, shrieking with laughter as she swatted his hand away.
“Good. And I’ll make a promise to you too. I promise to be home soon, and when I am, I promise to give you as much of my attention as you could possibly want... which I’m guessing will be less and less as the next few years go by.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Just a hunch, Jer-bear… just a hunch.”
Jeri pressed against her father, feeling a warmth inside her that was even better than the sun against her back. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady beating of her father’s heart, her thoughts drifting and fading towards a deep, effortless sleep.
The dream began to change.
Jeri dimly noticed the sound that followed her father’s heartbeat; a sharp, high-pitched chirp that seemed to chase every faint beat. The warmth of the morning sun faded from her back, replaced by the chill of artificially conditioned air. As she stirred, she noticed the light that filtered through her closed eyelids had mutated to a cold, dull white. A familiar voice whispered her name as a warm hand lightly stroked her arm.
She opened her eyes and looked up at her father.
The hospital room was small and cramped. The air held the lingering smell of strong antiseptic. An army of stark metal machines crowded around her father’s bed, beeping and humming as they monitored his vital signs through a swarm of thin plastic lines that ran to his chest and head. Lying in the center of the chaos, wearing a green gown and covered with a thin blanket, her father looked up at her and smiled.
“Hey kiddo,” he said weakly. “Did you get some rest?”
Jeri nodded in a state of shock, blinking back tears as the full weight of reality came rushing back to her. In an instant she remembered everything.
Her father’s illness had come on quickly and without warning. He had called her late one night while she was writing her thesis for her Master’s in Economics in her apartment, her head buried deep in notes and thick volumes on global economics when the phone suddenly rang. He’d tried to make small talk with her at first, but Jeri knew her father too well to know he wouldn’t have called without a reason, and quickly asked him what was wrong. His voice trembled with emotion as he reluctantly told her about the strange headaches and dizziness he had been having for the last few weeks, and how he’d finally relented and gone to the doctor that morning. After a few tests and an MRI, the horrible truth was pointed out to him on a computer screen – her father had a massive brain tumor. Ten minutes after hearing the news, Jeri had packed a bag and was already breaking the speed limit in her old Toyota Corolla as she wiped away a torrent of warm tears and drove towards the hospital.