You Can't Hide Forever

It’s interesting how four-hours can feel like a lifetime. I watch Maggie trail ahead of me in the snow, thinking of ways to break the news. News that will break her heart, and I don’t know exactly how to do that to my only sister. Not only is Maggie my only sister, but she’s also my best friend. I remember in great detail the first time we ever trekked up to the family cabin. It was summer and we were both still in elementary school. We stopped at every lake we passed, jumped in together, and splashed around with no care in the world. We would look back and smile at our parents, trying to convince them to jump in, too. But they always just sat there at the edge of the water, holding each other’s hands and waving at us. In the winter, we would snowshoe up and ski down. Before we could ski, we sled and laughed ourselves into crying every time we crashed into the fluffy white snow. It was a simpler time and if we could go back to our past lives, I would take that opportunity in an instant.

But here we are, two siblings in our thirties, climbing our way up the mountain without our parents. Maggie looks around her shoulder and smiles at me, and I know she’s reminiscing on the good days as well.

“Noah, isn’t this beautiful?” She throws her arms up in the air, looks up at the sky and spins in a circle.

“It’s great, Maggie.” I have zero interest in the conversation that’s about to ensue.

“Mom and dad are looking at us now, so happy we are keeping this tradition.” She stops in her tracks and bends over to adjust her snow shoe before continuing the conversation…

“I think as soon as Leah and I start having babies, we can pull them up on a sled, or carry them on our backs like dad would.” I make no mention of the harsh reality that this will be my last trek up.

“You’re going to be an amazing uncle, Noah. I can’t wait for all of us to come up here. When are you going to stop working so much and actually meet my wife? I honestly still can’t believe you missed my wedding.” I remain staring at the ground.

“Look, Maggie! The cabin!” I’m relieved that we finally arrived after what felt like forever.

We shuffle our way through the snow and up to the A-Frame, leaving our snowshoes on the front porch. As we open the door, I notice everything looks exactly the same. The big, green couch in front of the fireplace. The cheap-looking tile in the kitchen, the wooden bed frames and squeaky stairs.

Alright, maybe we should follow mom and dad’s steps and go through all the appliances to make sure they work alright before we get settled?

“I actually think I want to take a nap.” I say a little harshly on accident.

“Okay, what is with you today? I know you miss them, but so do I. You can at least respect our traditions or pretend you want to be here.” I stare at Maggie blankly as I realize how correct she is. She can see right threw me and there’s no pretending everything is okay.

“Look, I’m sorry. I just have something I need to tell you and I don’t know how to.” I mention shyly.

“Well, what is it, Noah? You have always been able to tell me anything and I think now is the time to go back to that.” Silence drowns the room as I think of the perfect words.

“You know how mom and dad left us $20,000 each?” My voice shakes.

“Well, Noah… you know that’s not exactly how it works. They left you money specifically for cabin renovations and its property taxes and they left me $20,000 for property taxes on the house so we can keep them both.” Her eyes look at me sternly and I can feel my soul leave my body and my heart drop into my stomach.

“Right, well, I think I actually want to sell the cabin and use that money for something else.” I look at my feet in order to avoid eye contact.

Maggie doesn’t say anything, and I immediately feel terrible for what I’ve done. I pick up my backpack from the living room floor and head up the ladder to the loft to get some space. Since the cabin had been empty for quite some time, I see a few bugs crawling beside the bed. Luckily, I still have my boots on. I find myself following the bugs around the wooden-floor loft in a miserable attempt to squash them. As I stomp too closely to the bookshelf, I accidentally ram my shoulder into the wooden corner, resulting in a loud crash of books and boxes as they tumble to the ground.

I stand silently, waiting for Maggie to rush up and investigate, but I realize by the sound of splitting wood outside, that she didn’t hear it anyway. I kneel onto the freezing cold floor as I see my breath visibly leave my mouth, exiting as a large, white cloud.

Underneath me I see my small black notebook sticking out from between a few mystery novels my mom once collected. I pick it up with my right hand, wipe off the dust with my sleeve, open it to the middle page and begin to read:

July 7th, 1995

Last summer I was so sad that I left my notebook here. This notebook is so important to me because my sister gave it to me for Christmas. I’m pretty sure she didn’t have the money to buy it, and mom and dad actually paid for it. But it’s still pretty special that Maggie thought of me and how much I like to write. And now, I’m not so sad about leaving it anymore because I need something to write in so I never forget about today.

Mom and dad grilled hot dogs and we spent the day at the lake fishing. Maggie and I played hide and seek and I climbed a tree so high she never found me!

Our cabin trips are my favorite. I never want to go home and I never want this to end.

I find myself crying as I read the words my 10-year-old self wrote. I look around the loft and start to have more flashbacks of what the cabin once meant to me. For Maggie. For mom and dad. This was our sanctuary and I start to regret my decision.

I walk through the room, picking up old playing cards, toys, and quilts. All the items that have been forgotten by me. I wrap myself in the quilt mom made me when I was a kid and collapse onto the bed, closing my eyes and remembering her voice.

“Noah! Where are you? You’re such a good hider!” I hear mom's voice in my head, remembering the time I hid under this very quilt during a game of hide and seek. Another tear makes its way out of my eye and I realize this is the first time I’ve cried in years. I didn’t even cry at their funerals. I was hiding. Hiding from the fact that they’re really gone. And maybe, the idea of selling the cabin was really just me hiding from my pain. I wipe my tears, close my eyes again and lay comfortable in one more memory of mom:

As ten-year-old me hid under the quilt, I peeked out from the bottom and saw mom's footsteps coming closer and closer. The anticipation forced out a loud giggle and I gave myself up. She lifted the blanket, looked me in the eyes with a huge smile and said:

“Noah! There you are! You know, you can’t hide forever!”