Twenty-four Hours

Caroline stared out over the quiet, calm lake behind her house, wondering if it had all been a dream. For all she knew, maybe she was still dreaming. Just 24 hours before, Caroline bolted upright out of bed at the loud crack of thunder. While she was asleep, she could see the lightning flash through her closed eyelids, but the sound of thunder was still a shock. Now the rain was coming down sideways and hitting hard on the windows and roof. While it was startling, it was also strangely peaceful and almost hypnotic. Caroline had always loved storms ever since she was a kid growing up in Texas.

After being jolted awake so abruptly, it was impossible to get back to sleep. Caroline went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. Even if it was 3:00 a.m., she wasn’t worried about not getting back to sleep since it was a Sunday and she had nowhere to be. She sat on her recliner, feet up with a blanket on, sipping her strong European blend coffee with a touch of creamer, and slightly sweetened. “Should I turn on the TV,” she asked out loud to herself. She talked to herself a lot, but to be fair, she had a cat too, so she could tell herself she was talking to him and not to herself like a crazy lady. But truthfully, she didn’t have a lot of friends and lived a life of virtual solitude outside her working hours. Caroline was lonely and introverted. Making friends as an adult was not as easy for her as it was when she was a child. Back in the day, she had a lot of neighborhood friends she played outside with all day. She had a best friend, though, who lived across the street that she met in the 3rd grade and was best friends all through high school, but after graduation, they lost touch and became totally different people. Caroline had another best friend in her twenties, but that friendship faded when they moved away from each other. Since then, there had been no more besties and just acquaintances—no one to really call a friend. Ironically, all of her acquaintances had no idea she was lonely, and had no real, true-blue friends in her life, nor even family anymore.

Caroline began to doze in her chair when the rain dwindled to a steady patter. Suddenly the doorbell rang. What?? Now it was 4:30 a.m. Who in the world is ringing the doorbell at that hour?? The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and her “Spidey senses” were tingling. Quickly she grabbed her phone to check the Ring camera. No one was there. Hmm..weird. Maybe all the lightning did something and caused some kind of electrical anomaly? OR…a murderer is just lurking around the corner out of sight! The hairs stood up on the back of her neck again. She said to herself, “Great…now I will certainly not be able to get back to sleep.” She resigned herself to stay awake until the sun came up, then investigating with a bat in hand. It started getting lighter out around 6:30 a.m. Caroline threw some sweatpants and a T-shirt on. She put on flip-flops, then changed to sneakers in case there actually was a murderer she needed to run from. After all, who can effectively run in flip-flops?

Caroline opened the front door and found herself standing at the threshold of the door from her childhood home, looking out into the front yard she played in as a child; the same yard her parents took prom pictures of her and her friends in high school. “No way, I have to be dreaming…wake up, wake up…” She closed and opened her eyes, but she was still there.

Okay... so I can't wake up. Let's see where this dream takes me. Caroline turned around and faced her house. It was the same dark wooden door that she had gone in and out of as a child, the same door she stood in front of when her boyfriend walked her to the door and kissed goodnight in high school, the same door she stood in front of, inviting her friends in for a birthday party. Caroline pushed the door handle, but it was locked. She wasn’t meant to go inside. She walked down to the end of the sidewalk and looked around. Her best friend Lily’s house was across the street, her dad’s old blue Datsun pickup sitting in the driveway. Next to Lily’s house was Robbie’s (another childhood friend) house. His older brother’s beat-up El Camino was sitting in the driveway next to his older sister’s Pacer. His parents must not be home because the Buick was not in the driveway. Caroline turned to face her house again and saw her next-door neighbor Lavonne’s house. Her grandparents were over because the big, maroon Cadillac with curb feelers was sitting out in front. Should she go knock on someone's door? she wondered. Fear gripped her. What would she say? But just as soon as that thought crossed her mind, Lily came running out of her sliding glass door. "Caroline, come over! I want to show you the new Rick Springfield poster I got!" Caroline smiled. Rick Springfield had been one of her many childhood crushes growing up. He was so dreamy! She ran over, excited just as she would have been at that age. Maybe she really was becoming that young girl again. All the same feelings she had experienced then came rushing back. It was strange. She stepped into Lily's room, and it was just as she remembered it: the double bed with the floral comforter, the walls covered with posters of Rick Springfield and Duran Duran. By then, the Andy Gibb posters had come down, though Caroline remembered those too. Lily still had one of those clunky silver stereos with the oversized knobs and built-in record player. Lily put on "Jessie's Girl," and the two of them danced around on the bed. Caroline felt a joy she hadn't experienced in years. When friendships begin that young, there isn't yet the burden of worrying about what other people think or whether you're cool enough. You simply love and accept each other for who you are. Lily's mother came home, and it was time for Caroline to leave. Seeing her was bittersweet because, in Caroline's real life, she had long since passed away from cancer. It felt wonderful to see someone who had always treated Caroline like one of her own children and welcomed her into the family.

Caroline walked out the sliding glass door just as she had done hundreds of times growing up. The moment she stepped outside, she was a teenager again, and the neighborhood had changed. Robbie’s brother and sister’s cars were no longer in the driveway, both of them moved out and both of them had spouses and baby girls. Lavonne’s house had been re-landscaped and the tree in the front yard had grown considerably. Caroline walked over to her house and pushed on the door. This time, it opened. "Mom? Dad?" she called. No one answered. She wandered through the kitchen with its yellow appliances and the first-generation Mr. Coffee machine before walking down the hallway to her bedroom. There sat her double bed with the yellow comforter, the plastic shelving that held her clunky stereo, and the yellow push-button telephone. She picked up the receiver and dialed. How she could still remember Trey's phone number from high school but couldn't remember what she'd had for breakfast was beyond her. Trey said he'd pick her up around noon so they could get ready for the Homecoming parade.

Soon she was climbing into Trey's Buick. It was definitely an old-lady car, but it was safe and affordable for a sixteen-year-old. Trey had feminine mannerisms, and people constantly assumed he was gay. Caroline and her friends always defended him. Back then, being gay was treated like the worst thing imaginable. Trey really was gay, although at that age he hadn't yet realized it himself. None of his friends were surprised when he came out in college. In fact, Trey was probably more surprised than any of them. It never mattered to Caroline. She loved him for exactly who he was. Trey and Caroline pulled up to the school parking lot and all the floats we had worked on for the parade were there. The different clubs and groups that were responsible for their floats were out putting final touches on them. Trey and Caroline rode on the choir float with several other students. Their theme was "Futuristic," and Trey helped her create what they believed was futuristic makeup. Caroline distinctly remembered the bright blue lipstick that made her teeth look incredibly yellow. The parade started and circled the neighboring subdivisions near the school. The high school marching band played, the homecoming court rode in convertibles, and the choir sang on the float. The local kids in the neighborhood loved seeing the “cool” teenagers and were even more excited by them handing out candy. Caroline was having so much fun. She had forgotten what it felt like to belong—to be part of something bigger than herself, to work together with other people toward a common goal while laughing the entire time. When had she stopped participating in life? She supposed it had happened so gradually that she'd never even noticed. Of course nothing ever runs smooth and they didn’t take into account the trees lining the neighborhood and the float was tall. It definitely looked worse for wear at the end due to it brushing against low-hanging trees. Once the parade was over, a group of them headed to Pizza Barn. They laughed over pizza and Cokes, talking too loudly and acting wonderfully ridiculous. It was the kind of carefree afternoon Caroline hadn't thought about in years.

When they walked out of Pizza Barn, Caroline suddenly found herself standing at her high school graduation immediately after the ceremony. Her mother, father, and grandmother were there taking pictures with her and her friends. Her heart nearly burst. They looked so young. So healthy. So alive. Caroline had lost her grandmother in 2004, her mother in 2008, and her father in 2012. She wanted to hold on to them forever and never let them go. She missed them more than words could express. She missed having people who showed up simply because they loved her.

Most of Caroline's close family was gone now. She lived hundreds of miles from the place where she'd grown up, her children had both moved to different states, and the friendships she'd once treasured had faded with time. Maybe some of that loneliness wasn't entirely life's fault. Had she really been making the effort to let people in? Or had she been protecting herself from future heartbreak by never allowing anyone to get close enough to matter? Caroline turned away from her family when a friend called her name, when she turned around, she found herself in Wiesbaden, Germany, at her first Air Force duty station.

This time she wasn't participating. Like Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, she was simply an observer, watching her younger self and the people who surrounded her. She remembered that this was where she had first learned friends could become family when home was thousands of miles away. They celebrated birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas together because none of them wanted to spend those holidays alone. It was there that Caroline realized people were far more alike than different. Everyone wanted to be loved. Everyone wanted to belong. Everyone wanted what was best for the people they cared about. She had understood that lesson at nineteen. When had she forgotten it? What changed and when did she become so reclusive?

In that moment, Caroline made herself a promise. She would build a family again—not through blood, but through friendship. If she wanted a richer, fuller life, she would have to create it herself. It wasn't going to happen by accident. A deep sense of peace settled over her. It was the realization she had needed for far too long

The next thing Caroline knew, she was standing in her backyard overlooking the quiet pond. The storm had passed, leaving only a gentle rain. Sunlight filtered through the clouds, turning the raindrops into tiny sparks of gold.

At that moment, Caroline knew everything was going to be okay.