I close my eyes one more hopeless times and open them to find I'm still not dreaming

I've always had the uncanny ability to overhear things that I was never meant to hear in that moment, or ever. Most of the time I'm undiscovered but that wasn't the case tonight.

I overheard my aunt on the phone, which is nothing unusual. I swear my Aunt Anne knows everyone within the city of Albany and countless others throughout the rest of the country. I'd heard my name mentioned so I went over behind her as she finished up her conversation. She told the person on the other end she hoped that their appointment went well tomorrow. She hung up the phone and turned to find me there. My eyes must have been confused and curious because she came out and told me the truth.

Carolyn's cancer is back. My oldest cousin. I am so upset. That statement is way too simple to actually describe what I'm feeling, but it's the least painful to type I guess. This is the second time something like this has happened within the last 8 months. They'd finally cleared her in September. But now it's back. The last time I saw her was in August. I saw her a record 3 times this summer. Usually I would be able to say I'm 99.9% sure I'd be seeing her Memorial Day or Fourth of July of this year. Now? I'm not sure what to say or even think right now.

Again, I have this overwhelming feeling to see her. To talk to her. To make sure she's ok. Let her know I want her to be ok. Though in my head it's more of a selfish need. I have this gnawing feeling to tell her how much I miss her, how much I wish there weren't 25 years between us and that we'd gotten to spend more time together, that I love her. Alot.

But I can't. I tried to tell her I loved her once before I was leaving the lake. She wouldn't really look at me or hug me afterwards when I tried to say goodbye. I don't want to freak her out. That's the last thing she needs.

I try my damnest to make my voice sound like a smile

It's 2008 now. That's really hard to believe. I've always been one to think, but tonight it's really gotten the best of me.

Jennifer had already gotten James out of the door to my aunt's house and was calling after Madison who stood next to me at the top of the stairs. Madison's arms were wrapped tightly around my waist and as Jennifer kept calling her, she finally let go and went down the stairs, wedging herself between the door and the wall. The last thing she said was, "When will I see you again?" I told her, "Hopefully soon."

I'm 20 years old now and it still deflates me that the best answer I can give my little 8 year old second cousin, as well as myself every time they leave or I leave is "hopefully soon".

Hopefully soon never turns into anything concrete. Hopefully turns into maybe which culminates into a form of no. Soon becomes summers or years later if it receives a life at all. It's such a place holder...something to take up the space that would be so grossly obvious without its presence.

My life in relation to my family is one big hopefully soon. Hopefully soon I'll see my family for more than 2-3 days a year. Hopefully soon I'll meet everyone's children, husbands or wives I've never met. Hopefully soon I'll have been to everyone's houses. Hopefully soon I'll have everyone's address, email and phone number. Hopefully soon I'll use any or all of those ways to talk to them. Hopefully soon I'll know who they are as people. Hopefully soon they'll know more about me than my name and that I'm in college.

I have no idea if even one of these things is ever going to happen. And that just makes me so sad.