Theea
Yla
to love life, to love it —
I lead us back up onto the porch, boots knocking against weathered boards, Damien’s measured tread just behind me. And then the door bangs wide, Flora breezing through it with curls bouncing and arms full of thrashing raccoon. Spice flutters beside her with another squirming ball of fur, wings pumping like a banner in a storm.
I laugh openly, and my brows arch high, shooting Damien a look, my smile crooked with and unspoken: this is chaos.
When everyone finally drifts together—Flora disappearing toward the trees, Ronin carefully pulling glass from Remi’s curls, Calypso hopping off the roof with palm fronds in her wake—I can only stand there, smiling like I’ve swallowed sunlight whole. Gratitude swells inside me, too big for my ribs, too big for words.
I clap my hands, the sound snapping sharp in the salt-heavy air. “Okay!” My voice rings too bright, too eager, but I don’t care. “You guys are amazing. Seriously. Look at what we’ve already done.” My heart is in my throat, and all I can do is keep smiling.
I start ticking off fingers as I point out the next tasks. “One: the couch has gotta go.” I jerk my thumb toward the living room, where it slumps like something half-dead. “Definitely a two-person job.”
“Two: stocking the kitchen with what I brought.” I nod to the crates and sacks by the door, heavy with jars and dried meat, and baking goods. “Stuff to make this place actually feel like a home again.”
“Three: hanging the paintings.” My eyes linger on the bundle of frames propped against the porch wall. All mom’s, naturally. The colors still sing, even faded—a forest, a stormy ocean, an unfamiliar skyline with a large wall, and . “They should go back where they belong.”
“And four: windchimes.” I gesture upward to the rafters of the porch roof, where the breeze already whistles through. Always driftwood, shells, hagstones, seaglass. My mom taught me, and said Vai always made them too. ”They should be singing on this porch again.”
"Then of course, there's dusting and sweeping. Then, I think I've got everything handled from there!" I drop my hands, giving them all a crooked smile. “Take your pick. Let’s keep making her shine.”
Round 5:
TLDR:
New tasks! Take your pick.
- Get rid of the couch - another two person job.
- Stocking the kitchen (that a raccoon made a mess of)
- Find good places to hang paintings
- Find good places to hang windchimes on the porch
- Dusting/sweeping
— even when you have no stomach for it
