A mere 2 weeks later, my parents arrived by plane on my Dad's 76th birthday. After 6 years of annual visits to take a break from Vermont winters, my folks finally placed their home on the market and made the move to sunny Arizona. While Dad was not feeling his best, we managed to celebrate his birthday and start their househunting that very weekend. After seeing 3 homes, they put an offer in on the 2nd house they toured, which was accepted on Labor Day. The following week, my Dad was admitted to the hospital. Thanks to Vickie, my amazing friend and super-realtor, my folks became homeowners during my Dad's hospitalization and after a few very tense and tearful days, we we were able to bring Dad directly to their new home. The new house is starting to look and feel like home. Dad is getting better with every new day. And I am enjoying dinners on the patio with my parents and watching them settling into life as Arizona residents.
We met in 1979 - just 19 and emerging from the protective cocoons of our childhood. I was living away from home for the first time in my life while attending college in New York. We bonded instantly as sisters and have remained that way ever since. Bertha and her entire family welcomed me into their lives with open arms and a fair amount of teasing, which I've come to learn is their way of showing love and acceptance. Along the way, I've acquired an affinity for cuban food, a second set of parents (who are not afraid of exercising their parental rights, sometimes more than my natural set) and the gift of a second language, thanks in great part to the spanish-speaking branch of my family.
Bertha and I have weathered through a lifetime of experiences - graduations, weddings, births, deaths, the occasional emergency room visit and countless family dinners. We've laughed together, cried together, argued and made up, and kept each others' secrets. And we've celebrated every birthday landmark together as well.
