This weekend I decided to take my mornings a little slower. I woke up, made a big pot of coffee, and took very small sips because I had resolved that I did not need to be anywhere until at least noon.

Despite this, there are these little pings that remind you that your sentence has not yet been served. It’s true that you’ve unlocked the prison door, opened it a crack- just enough to get a clearer view of freedom. You climb back to your bunk bed and carve another little line into the wall. Relief is just a week away. And besides, you’ve chosen to stay.

Every year my mother and sisters go to Michigan to visit my Aunt’s cottage. Summer is my busy season, so it has been a while since I have gone with them. Because of this, I annually receive a concerned text message from my younger sister who tells me that I should have lunch with my Father. He has been left alone in their absence (he doesn’t like the beach and he despises vacation). It’s not like this grown man can’t fend for himself. We’re talking about a guy who over-does it at Cosco; starvation is not in his future. However! There seems to be a family consensus that he will start talking to the curtains if he is left alone for too long. He is one lunch away from losing his mind.

Besides being told what to do by my younger sister, I am happy to oblige. It’s a good excuse to see my father, and a great excuse to take a work breather.

It takes several instagram cues (pictures of beaches and ice cream and things that are Swedish) to remind me of my annual appointment. Actually I miss many instagram cues because by the time I schedule this lunch, it is technically my father’s final day of solitude.

On the morning of my lunch, I’m having a rare phone conversation with my younger sister. She also happens to be in Toronto this year because she too has to work a lot this summer. When I realize she has the day off, I extend an invite to the very outing she has inspired for so many years. The invitation is met with confusion:

“Why are you having lunch with Dad??”

“You know, everyone is in Michigan, right?”

“Oh.” She retorts. No, she is having brunch with a friend.

Before I decide to revisit the memory of many concerned texts I have received from my younger sister. Conversations that made this lunch seem absolutely imperative. I will choose to take a moment to be proud of my Father, who has reached new heights of competence/independence since my younger sister also started not going to Michigan. He also re-shingled the shed roof. Good job Dad.

30 Minute Playlist – Slow Down

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