The Heather Chronicles

It's been a long time since I laughed so hard no sound came out and tears streamed down my face. You know the kind of laughter I'm talking about, right? Where you're paralyzed and your body wants air so bad, but all you can do is lean to the side and kind of shudder. Finally a loud squeal comes out followed by more tears and you grab onto whomever is next to you, hoping that in doing so it will prevent you from rolling to the ground and getting cheese fries ground into your ass. When it's finally over your cheeks are sore and your soul is free from whatever bullshit entrapped it just moments earlier.

Today I had that kind of laughter and it felt damned good.

My father came into town today and we've all been kind of dreading it. Without going into any further dumpy details, he met my mom, sister and me for lunch. In the ten minutes it took for us to get from the office to the restaurant, he'd driven my mom and I crazy. We sat bitching while we waited for him to get back from the bathroom and for my sister to join us. The three of us girls kept most of the conversation going because it's always strained when left in his hands. We're all just making small talk and wanting to get out of there when my sister starts talking about the hillbillies up at the lake.

My sister and her family have a camper up at this lake about an hour away where they spend almost every weekend during their summers. Their friends all have campers up there as well. They are on a dirt version of a cul-de-sac and at the end of the cul-de-sac reside the hillbillies. I've seen their Airstream trailer, but can't recall them personally from my visits up there. My sister mentions them every once in a while, most recently when they purposefully went up to the lake for a few extra days because the hillbillies were away at the Moonshine Festival in Holla Creek or someplace like that.

They have what is referred to as the Flying Purple People Eater, which is a purple golf cart with white leather seats, a fuzzy dice, and spinning rims. They have another golf cart that is a three-wheeled meter maid cart, which has sat in the woods for two years. Apparently one of them took it out recently when he was on a typical drunk. He crashed it into a ditch and flew into the windshield, cutting his face and cracking the plexi-glass. Are you getting the picture here?

So my sister starts to tell us how Fletcher took my niece to the lake's haunted trail recently. Residents dress up and try to scare the people that are driven on a trailer, I'm assuming towed by a truck, hayride-style. The hillbillies invited their hillbilly cousins to join them for this event. All of the hillbillies were pretty trashed and went onto the "hayride" on the haunted trail. Well male cousin hillbilly is so drunk, he rolls off his seat on the trailer and falls to the ground where he is then run over by the rear wheel of the trailer and breaks his foot. Heidi was told they could hear him screaming, "Somebudda's gonna paaaayyyyyyy...." as the wheel went over his foot.

The three of us girls busted up at this. We couldn't stop! The tears started rolling and we were leaning every which way in hopes this would bring some air into our lungs. My dad sat there staring at us like we were nuts. He kind of smiled, but it was more at our reaction than the story itself. Then Heidi put us over the edge.

"No....no wait," she laughed as she wiped her eyes. "Last year the hillbilly who lives there got really drunk and threw up." She leans forward, her laughter picking up. "And..." she wipes more tears. "And he threw up so hard he lost his dentures as he puked."

That was it. We lost it. The three Duffin girls let out one loud scream, then silently writhed trying to expel the wave of laughter that was too much. The tears poured harder. My mother grabbed my shoulder and I leaned against the wall gasping for air.

Heidi starts waving her hand to finish. "AND...hahahahaha....he had to go back the next day to fish his teeth out of the puke!" We screamed more. Other patrons were flat out just staring at us now. Some looked amused, others scared. My dad just sat there with a slight smile not getting why it was so funny.

After what seemed like an eternity of tears, laughter and epileptic fits, we quieted down, but were still grinning ear-to-ear. It was like an exorcism of sorts. The evil spirits of the ghosts of our past that sat with us at that table were expelled, and at least temporarily forgotten. In their place was the vision of projectile denture vomiting.

Sometimes I would never live anywhere else.

I remember sitting at B&O Espresso in Seattle a couple of years ago with a few of my friends one night. After a game of "Would you rather?" which included scenarios of swimming through fire in Hell or having an arm growing out of your forehead, my friend Chad said, "Okay, so what is your most beautiful moment in life?"

I believe there were four of us gathered around that table that evening. Each person shared their moments, as no one had just one. When it came to my turn I remember that I shared three things, but only remember two of the moments. The first was when I was 21. I helped my old friend Joan move back to Seattle from California with her six-week old daughter. Joan had to pee and so we stopped at a rest area at the base of Mt. Shasta in California. She asked if I'd hold her daughter while she used the bathroom. So I sat on this bench at sunset, holding this six-week old baby. The sky was the most amazing shade of pink. So pink it was almost violent. We were the only people there. The mountain looked like it was on fire with girly-girl-ness. As I held this tiny baby with this enormous mountain looming over us, I felt so small, so quiet. The magnitude of life, nature and ego all collided and I felt free and humbled. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life.

The second moment may sound petty and I won't go into details, but it was the last time of a first time "I'm in love with you."

The third I cannot remember, so I guess it wasn't THAT beautiful, or maybe it just merged with the many other mini-beautimous moments. However, after last night I have to add to the most beautiful moments ever.

Of course we all know that yesterday was Halloween. It started when Sara-Jane emailed asking what I was going to be for Halloween? I informed her that I was not dressing up for the first time in my entire life. After sending this response I got really sad. This is my favorite holiday for Pete's sake! This is ridiculous! Fuck the pity! Fuck the money! Fuck I wasn't back home doing something fun! I was going trick-or-treating with my sister and niece and I vowed I would dress up! My mind scraped for something I could do with what I had, and then it hit.

I rushed home after work to get ready for trick-or-treating. I put on my ripped-up jeans, t-shirt and fleece. I ratted out my hair and put fake dirt on my face, drew on a black eye, and drew a paw print on my cheek. I headed to my sister's house, where I was told she was going to join me in my costume. My fleece was replaced by her ex-husband's sweatshirt, and we cut up our tops and dripped fake blood all over our cut-up shirts, faces and hands. We then went into the woods and picked branches and leaves for our hair and the tears in our shirts. Kylee agreed to let me borrow one of her bears and my sister, her moose and we strapped them on our shoulders. We were campers attacked by wild animals. We then took Sleeping Beauty and the poodle, Tinkerbell, trick-or-treating. It was one of the most fun times of my life! I went with them last year, but it was so different this time. The girl time with my sister and the excitement and wonder of my 3-year old niece left me grinning ear-to-ear. It reminded me of how happy one can be from such a simple thing as trick-or-treating.

As we approached the last house of the night, Kylee announced "I'm going to go to that house and get my candy, then Ms. Heather is going to carry me home." It was the first time she wanted me to carry her. After she got her candy, she jumped up into my arms and nuzzled in. Life felt full and my uterus ached for one of my own.

"Auntie Heather! You're hurting me!" she moaned.

I set her down and realized the branch sticking out of my shirt was impaling her stomach. I swiftly removed it and scooped her back up. She nuzzled in again and I realized that though I can't wait to get out of this town, life is pretty damned good with those little arms wrapped around your neck.