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“This is more serious than finding a few melodies catchy,” Hazel says, eyes twinkling. She sips from her mug and watches me over the rim with those beautiful, golden-brown eyes.
I love how comfortable she appears here at the table with my family.
Brett, Corinne, and the kids are my family. Sure, I had a few reasons to return to my hometown after my years in the city. I missed being able to pop in on my folks. I missed the dirt bike tracks and the Slickrock trails that traverse the deserts surrounding downtown. But most of all, I moved back to Moab to live right down the road from these guys.
My brother and his wife and my nieces—they’re my pack.
Maybe one day I’ll have a wife and kids and make this crew of ours bigger.
Not gonna think about that right now.
Shoot.
I can’t help it…
I know that this stirring feeling in my chest has to do with family.
How, for me, this is what really matters. More than money, more than action sports, more than thrills.
This is what it’s all about, and it’s almost painful to admit how much I’ve wanted it over the years.
I wanted it, but I believed it wouldn’t happen.
Jess never got along with Brett and Corinne. She used to skip out on trips to Moab with me with the flimsiest of excuses: a manicure appointment or a shopping trip with a friend. It ate at me that they didn’t all get along—that she wouldn’t even attempt to get to know my crew. But I refused to get hung up on it because I figured there was no way one person could check all your boxes.
But Hazel… man. She’s sorta checking all my boxes.
“...and two summers ago, we all drove to Red Rocks,” Ophelia gleefully reports while waving her donut around. “And Uncle Jack was on the big screen for his dance moves!”
Hazel giggles silently into her cup. She studies me across the table.
I haven’t sat down yet.
Don’t know if I can do it.
It’s just sitting at a table, but it feels like more to me.
Like it would be taking this thing between us to a deeper level. The people closest to me in this life are sitting around this table… and now she’s right here with them.
It boggles my mind to see her fit so seamlessly into my world.
“Show her the dance move, Uncle Jack,” Jasmine says.
I reach for a donut. “No way.” I take a big bite.
“Oh, come on,” Corinne prods. Her eyes sparkle with glee, but she’s keeping a lid on it better than her daughters. “What’s the big deal? Just do the move.”
Brett—curse him—gets to his feet.
He bends his knees, makes his hands into fists, and starts rocking his shoulders. He tries to do my move.
He can’t do my move, because my older brother has two left feet and old-man knees.
“No, no!” Corinne says, waving her hands in front of her face. “You’re butchering it, honey!”
“It looked cooler than that, Dad,” Jasmine agrees.
Ophelia bounces up and tries the move. She’s better than her dad; I’ll give her that.
