“My Talisman is right here” I dangle my necklace I stuffed in my pocket in front of her face. “Can you slow down?”

She closes her eyes. I mean, she closes her eyes for real, driving nearly one-hundred miles per hour. She closes them for so long I yell, “Mom!”

Mom opens one eye. “Yes, yes, I can. She’ll be there soon, be ready to appear,” she mumbles. Her fingers tighten on the wheel as she furrows her brow, “Oh my.” She slows and heads over to the farthest right lane. “I haven’t driven that fast before.” She humpfs and her bright eyes sparkle with the sun glinting through the window. “That was just so fun. A goodbye with a rush.”

“Right, right.” I settle back into my seat, the seatbelt coarse under my tight fists.

The rest of the calm and normal drive to the airport is filled with tips and tricks and rules of living with my grandparents.

Don’t go out at night Don’t wander into the forest Don’t fall into the ravines Listen to your brother, always

There’s more but I’m sure you can figure out the rest. Curfews, places to go in the small town, people to avoid. You know, the normal things worried parents tell you.

Mom stopped at a drive-thru right before the airport parking entrance, so we sit in the car, devouring our burritos for the last time. Well, for the last time for a whole year. And we point out the clouds and the planes passing by. We talk about Levon and all the funny moments we remember from us being kids. We talk a bit about dad but not a lot and when I press she tells me, “You’re not ready.” Which is really no surprise, since that’s always her response. At eighteen, you would think I’m ready to hear whatever story she doesn’t want to share. I think I can handle the worst case scenarios at this point, and honestly, I’ve thought about the possibilities and pray it’s not as gruesome as it could be.

We head inside, past check-in, past security, and into the waiting area. She sits next to me. I love my mom, if you haven’t noticed. She’s just, she’s just her. Have you ever met a fantastical person? I don’t mean a fantastic person, fantastical – magical like. Being around her is like charging my batteries for the day and I’m going to miss my daily charge.

It’s just me and mom and so many other people. She goes over the rules with me again even through the announcement to board. She doesn’t give me a chance to interrupt as she spews more instructions and directions and things like don’t forget to call your best friend, she’ll love to hear from you.

“…and your grandparents,” mom says, “I need you to be patient with them. They aren’t always home and that’s okay.” She rubs her charm on her bracelet. “That’s why your brother is there so someone will always be home. He’s going to pick you up from the airport and give you a tour of the house and you need to listen to him.” She leans in close to my ear. “Listen to him Tula.” She pulls at her charm and glances around, smiling politely at the strangers who eye her too much. She smooths the pleats of her dress. “And I need you to promise me, don’t go out at night.”

“Yeah,” I say, “of course. I promise.”

“And,” she says, finger in the air, “did you bring your-”

“Yes, I brought my Talisman.”

She pats my leg. “Good, good. You know who made it for you?”

“Yep. Dad did. Carved a bear into a deer antler. And it was his first kill since I was born. And then he saw a bear while he was carrying the deer back and that’s why he carved a bear in it and then he’s carved little details in it ever since until,” I say, “you know.” You know means, he’s dead. It never matters how I end this story. Mom always smiles with her eyes closed. She likes hearing about dad, though these are the stories she’s told me many times already.

She reminds me of Jamestown, eclectic. Maybe that’s why she’s so eclectic in her thoughts and actions, she was raised in the feeling.

So much so, she bought a plane ticket solely so she can walk the entire length of the loading hallway right to the lip of the plane. She hugs me tight one more time and slips a pouch in my hands.

“Don’t open this for two weeks, my beautiful. Seriously.” She runs the gray streak through her fingers again. “Seriously, seriously,” she says, “keep this tucked away on the inside of your bra and do not even think about pulling it out until you land and then don’t dare open it for two weeks. Don’t even tell Levon. I’m as serious as the sun.” She kisses my forehead and smiles.

A passenger bumps past us and the stewardess says, “Ladies, please, stand to the side or board the plane.”

My mom curtsies and we slide to the side of the hallway. A hug and a kiss and one more hug and of course my mom’s version of a prayer. This time she mumbles it so low, I lean in to hear better.

“…and of course, when it’s time, it’s time. No judgement but please do everything you can to keep her safe.”

She pats me on top of my head and says, “I’ll miss you little cookie.”

“Ew,” I say, smiling. “I’ll miss you too.”

It’s officially time to board. A girl with platinum blonde hair brushes past my mom and I follow the girl but just as I walk away my mom grabs my arm and yanks me back.

She says sternly, “When the time comes Tula Lyla, you must, must, must, must, must do your task. Listen to your brother but understand he does not understand how important this is.” She pulls me even closer. “How important you are.”

“Uhm.” I squint my eyes. “What?”

She pats my cheek and then waves her hand in the air. “Eh,” she says, “you’ll know when it’s time. Bye-bye, now.” She shoos me away.

Eclectic.

Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixture dementia fuit There has been no great wisdom without an element of madness