But even if he hadn’t told his wife anything, she just KNEW something was up. Wouldn’t you, if a big white tent, resembling one used for a small circus, appeared in your back yard?

So far, no bears.

The day before the party, our departing flight at Dulles International is delayed. Of course. Apparently someone forgot to tell the pilot he was flying that day. 

We finally arrive in Manchester, New Hampshire. Our suite at the Hampton Inn has been given to someone else, so we are stuck with a small double room, where giant quilts on the bed drag on the floor and constantly trip me as I walk by. Off to the Stop and Shop for some essentials:  soy yogurt, soy milk, two bananas, a 6-pack of water. A man in a blue tank top, sporting enough hair on his back for at least two hundred orangatans, rushes through the parking lot. I do not have time to ask him if he knows any bears.

The day of the party, people mill under the big top, dip their toes in the pool, and sweat. They sweat in halter tops, mini skirts, baggy shorts, jeans, tank tops, t-shirts, bathing suits. The gnats swarm and bug everyone. There is a big barbecue/cooker thing, where a caterer roasts sides of beef, chicken, and maybe bears. He constantly mops his head with a big towel. It’s hot out, did I tell you? It is stifling, stinking, hot and humid. Unhealthy bad summer hot. At home in Virginia, I live in air conditioning all summer long. I am not happy in the New Hampshire heat. I feel like the beef, chicken, and bears. There are also two Don’s Johns near the cooker. But even more interesting is the old refrigerator, with two beer taps sticking out of one side. 

People were still sad from the morning funeral and everyone hated the ungodly heat, but they came to the party anyway. Stood outside and wished my sister-in-law a happy birthday. Endured hour upon hour of discomfort with smiling faces and high spirits. These New Hampshire people stick together, support one another. Generations of them have never lived anywhere else. I guess they don’t need to. 

After dinner, my brother-in-law called his wife up to the stage, where her three granddaughters presented her with a trophy engraved to the best nane (nanny) in the world. He thanked everyone for coming, saying that his wife could have been anything she wanted, but she chose, instead, to raise her family. He acknowledged the importance of abiding friendship and familial love. Then he apologized for forgetting to order a birthday cake.

My husband asked me later if I was happy I went. He knows what a homebody I am, how I hate flying, crowds, airport hassles and delays. Yes, I told him. Sure, I hated the weather and being sleep deprived and inconvenienced. But it was all worth it, just for that one moment. The moment we walked out to the back yard and my sister-in-law saw us. She burst into tears and ran up to us. Sobbing, she hugged me for many long minutes, till I couldn’t tell the sweat from the tears. “I’m SOOO glad to see you,” she kept saying. After she hugged my husband, he gave her the gift he had picked out himself: a necklace with a silver shamrock made out of four hearts touching. “I’ve never had anything from Tiffany’s before,” she wept. “You guys got me, you really got me.” 

I have never had anyone be so glad to see me in my whole life. So I was glad we were her surprise. That our presence meant so much to her surprised me. Happy and sad all mixed into one day. There’s always a novel going on in New Hampshire.