Liberty Hill, TX

It was the type of cabin that exuded “we’ll laugh about this someday” energy.

The bed was so short that my feet hung off the end, the bathroom that threatened to set my hair on fire (it’s complicated) had no door, and the water was literally purified by sulfur. I’m sure I found these quirks annoying at the time.

Or did I?

I’m not sure how, but I’m aware that at some point I became infected with something like positivity. Even now, I can feel my cynicism being attacked by candy-coated blood cells filled with puppies and Paul F Tompkins specials.

What I do know is that when I think about that trip, I don’t think about my feet hanging off the too-short bed. My memories are of my inspiring and extremely pregnant sister in law, her due date only weeks away.

I don’t think about the cabin’s aggressive commitment to its open floor plan. I think about seeing my brother for the first time in years — silver hair disregarding his youth, seasoning him with wisdom and persistently punctuating the passage of time.

And when he called us two weeks later to tell us he’s a father, I completely forgot what sulfur water tastes like. It might be delicious.

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