Nothing makes you feel settled in a new place like having someone come visit you. 

I see everyone in my family at least once a year, but we’re rarely all together at once, and Amy and Jenny are the hardest to get in the same room. Amy teaches in Thailand and Jenny teaches in Virginia, and their school schedules are so different that they never get the same days off (except weekends).

But somehow, we managed to snatch most of two days together at the end of March. Amy, on her annual pilgrimage to the USA on her school break, went to a wedding in Kansas and then hopped over to Chattanooga. Jenny made the five-and-a-half hour drive from Blacksburg on a Saturday morning and returned on Monday.

And oh, how fun to be the hostess! I started remembering. The last time I’d hosted my two sisters was in 2009, when I was living in Colorado. We watched Wives and Daughters and Jenny fell in love with Roger Hamley, never to recover. Then she got chicken pox. She did recover from that, thankfully, though she’s still a bit lovesick for Roger Hamley to this day.

***

Amy flew into the tiny Chattanooga airport around 10:30 am on the last Saturday of March. I picked her up and we drove to the Asian food store while she told me about the Amish wedding she’d just attended. Then we roamed the narrow aisles, picking up packets of mint, galangal, and hoisin sauce for all the wonderful meals she planned to make before the trip was over.

The cashier was from Laos. “Did you hear about the earthquake?” she asked Amy when she heard Amy was from Thailand. They swapped stories about various people they knew and how they’d been affected.

We’d just had a streak of glorious weather, so I was disappointed by the rain, gray skies, and thunderstorms predicted for the days my sisters were to be here. But the wisteria was out in full force. I never knew that wisteria grows wild, smothering trees in glorious dripping blossoms of pale purple, but we gasped and pointed at the magnificent displays as we drove home.

Amy attempted to nap while I fried some chicken, and then we commenced to make spring rolls⁠—chopping veggies, cooking rice noodles, tossing the chicken with cilantro, mint, and peanut sauce⁠—and then encasing it all in rice paper wrappers to dip into even more peanut sauce. Jenny rolled in at 1 pm, and we sat down to eat our bounty, sharing with David and Rebecca, the couple I live with.

While we ate, I glanced out the window at the gray sky. “If we want to take a walk before it rains, we should probably do it now,” I said.

David and Rebecca volunteered to clean up since we’d made the food, and my sisters and I grabbed our shoes and jackets and went out the door, laughing and swapping stories, catching each other up on the various dramas of our lives.

The walk wound around the golf course, and on the far side, I showed my sisters one of my favorite vistas: down the mountain to the various north Georgia towns that flow together into the general suburbs of Chattanooga. Jenny pulled out her camera and started taking snaps.

And then the first drops splashed on our foreheads and shoulders, and we dashed back, sweating profusely in the humidity despite the impending rain.

My typical Saturday consists of spending the afternoon at a coffee shop with our cousin Jason, where we both work on our writing, and then going to the Saturday service at church at 5 pm, after which I eat dinner at church and often head to Jason’s after for a game night with friends. So I dragged my sisters along for this ritual. And by the time church was over and the meal began, lo and behold, the sun actually came out, and we ate our dinner in the church courtyard.

It’s a curious thing, showing up to all your usual haunts with two sisters in tow after making your mark as An Individual for six months. I like giving context for who I am. I like being part of The Smucker Sisters instead of Just Me.

***

Someone told me to go see some waterfalls, as late winter/early spring is their peak. One of the closest waterfalls was at Lula Lake Land Trust, just down the road from my house. Lula Lake only allows tourists in one weekend a month, and the weekend my sisters were here was one of them. So I made a reservation with no idea if the weather would permit such an excursion.

Sunday morning, my sisters sat at home sipping coffee while I ran back to church for an hour to go to Sunday School, and as I drove home, it poured buckets. I sighed, thinking of the umbrella I left in Houston and my raincoat back in Oregon. No hike to a waterfall for us, I guess.

I came home to my favorite Thai meal of all: galengal soup. At least the rainstorm is good for something, I thought. It makes eating soup feel cozy.

But my sisters were undaunted. We are Oregon girls after all, and Jenny, warned ahead of time about the possible rain, had come prepared. I’d borrowed an umbrella from Mariah, and when Jason came over with his supplies, we found that between the four of us, we had two rain coats and three umbrellas. 

It was enough. We piled into my car and drove to Lula Lake Land Trust.

And yes, the rain and dampness did cause our map to disintegrate and stick together to the point that we had to get another. But we persisted, marked out the hike we wanted to do, and then went on our way.

Before long, the rain cleared away, leaving only a gray sky and dense humidity. And then we came around the corner, and there was the lake and the waterfall.

That was the extent of the day’s adventures. We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting on the pink couch in the living room and talking. Moving outside to the deck when the sun unexpectedly burst forth, and then back inside when dusk settled. Catching up on each other’s lives.

The rain poured all night, and when we rose at 6:15 am to see Jenny off, lightning flashed across the sky. “Stay safe!” we implored her, pouring her coffee. “Prioritize your safety on the road over making your meeting!”

She laughed and promised us, then dashed through the rain to her car and was off.

But Amy was staying for another few days. I had to work that Monday, as it was the end of the month and I had some things I needed to finish up, but when the rain slowed to a drizzle she walked with me to Starbucks, and in the evening we went to watch a movie with friends. Tuesday, though, the weather was nice and I took off work and we made a day of it.

I took her to the North Shore first, an area here in Chattanooga full of walks along the river and touristy shops. It was while we were driving there that Amy looked at her phone and said, “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Mom just sent a message to the family group chat. It says, Putting this out there with Paul’s permission. And wanting your thoughts. He is on one of his Freight Train Great Ideas campaigns about this free dog on Craigslist.”

“Oh no,” I interrupted.

Amy gave me an I know, right? look and continued. “It would motivate us to take walks and I wouldn’t be as nervous at night when he travels etc etc. Which are good reasons I admit. BUT I think it would end up being his enthusiasm and my responsibility. He disagrees. Maybe he’s right but I’m pessimistic.”

I groaned. “This is a terrible idea. The last thing Mom needs is to feel responsible to take care of some dog. And Dad travels all the time.”

“Should I record you saying that and send it back?” Amy asked.

“I think you should just say that we both think it’s a bad idea.”

We pulled into the parking lot of a thrift store, but they weren’t open yet, so we drove on down the street. My phone buzzed and buzzed. I parked and then checked my phone to see that Amy had expressed our dubiousness, and various family members agreed with us.  

Most of the shops were closed. It seems that people who visit the North Shore aren’t particularly early risers. We walked through the park and down to the river, shivering in the morning chill. Phoebe sent information to the family group chat about German Shepherds, and how much activity and stimulation they need to keep from growing bored and destroying your stuff.

The coffee shop was open. Amy and I wandered inside, ordered drinks, and sat in the upstairs room, flanked by exposed brick and large picture windows overlooking the river. She opened her phone and gave a startled exclamation. 

“What?” I asked.

“Check your phone!”

I looked. Mom had sent an update. “Oh, I should add one more detail: APRIL FOOLS”

Oh man. She got all of us so good. None of us were remotely suspicious, and it was the best kind of prank in that we all felt relief upon discovery rather than disappointment or stupidity. 

***

The shops finally opened, and we spent a glorious morning browsing them and visiting local thrift stores, until my growling stomach propelled us home, across the river and back up the mountain, to eat leftovers for lunch.

Then, the morning chill evaporated by the afternoon sun, we explored the various hiking trails on Lookout Mountain. 

Finally, we reached Point Park, at the very tip, and gazed down over the city and the river.

“Look!” I said, pointing to the north shore of the river, “There’s where we were this morning!”

(This is a picture of me, intending to gaze over the city, but instead being momentarily distracted by drama in the group chat.)

We didn’t stay long, as we needed to hurry home, make dinner, and then attend a church event that evening. But I couldn’t believe I’d lived on this mountain for almost six months and never taken the the time to explore these trails.

***

The bad news: Amy left Wednesday morning

The other bad news: she had to leave insanely early in the morning.

The good news: she flew out of the tiny Chattanooga airport, so after I dropped her off I bipped back home in half an hour and went back to bed.

The other good news: I have sisters, and they are vivacious, interesting, kind, hilarious people. And we love each other and like each other. And we always find a way to be together, even in the midst of impossible schedules.