"Back Again"

Here we go again. Been a while, hasn't it? Life happened—work, karaoke, and... yeah, let’s skip the recap. Not much worth mentioning. Oh, wait—there’s Lily.

I stayed at Lily’s again, In fact, I am on her toilet right now. So Lily is this girl I have being going with, well… not girl, girl more woman. She’s in her twenties…extremely beautiful and…she likes me, which is always a plus.

I know what you’re thinking: "Oh, he hasn’t written for weeks, and suddenly, there’s a girlfriend? Convenient." Am I conjuring people now? I promise she’s real.

The day started off perfect: morning sex (check), breakfast in bed (check). I was basically Ryan Gosling in a rom-com. Then, my mom texted, reminding me of our annual family gathering back home.

Lily saw the text and went full CSI: Relationship Edition.
Lily: Your mom? You didn’t tell me. I booked us a couple’s massage.
Me: (internally screaming) Uh… sorry? It’s a family tradition.
Lily: Are you ashamed of me? Is that why you didn’t tell her about me?

I don’t even like massages. Who likes a total stranger rubbing their body? HYUK, I'm shaking thinking about it

So, here I am, in her bathroom, dodging this relationship-level boss fight. Ladies, I swear, it’s not personal, but why does every disagreement feel like a Jedi mind trick? Guys? We punch, we hug, we drink beer. Done.

Anyway, it’s July 14th (continuity issues, am I right?). By 11 a.m., I was back at my apartment picking up Daphne. Speaking of my wonderful sister, she is actually the reason Lily and I met. Funny story. Wait For It…I'll get to it at some point.

We rolled into the old town Friday afternoon. The place hadn’t changed: plain streets, people walking aimlessly, and old men loudly debating politics outside cafés. A kid zoomed past on a bike, nearly taking out a chicken that clucked for its life.

Mom greeted us at the door, her apron already dusted with flour.
"Max! Daphne! You look… tired."
Thanks, Mom. Nothing like a little maternal honesty to keep you grounded. She hugged us both, then immediately started fussing over my hair, my clothes, and—of course—my lack of a girlfriend.

"How’s Serena?" she asked, pointedly ignoring Daphne’s dramatic throat-clearing. "Is she still seeing that Dave fellow?"

I need to start talking to anyone other than my mother about my life problems, maybe even write a book, NAH.

Inside, the house smelled like cinnamon and nostalgia. Mom’s signature apple pie was cooling on the counter and the dining table was already set for a feast. My nephew, Alex came crashing into the room like a human tornado.

"Uncle Max! Did you bring me anything?"

"Of course," I said, handing him a bag of assorted candy. His eyes lit up, and he disappeared just as quickly as he’d arrived, probably to hide the sweets, Mom doesn’t like sweets.

I feel like I need to explain this nephew you’ve never heard of before. So, I have two siblings, my sister, Daphne as you know, and our older brother Jake. The baby is not his by the way, he usually stays at home, doing nothing! But he has vanished today for some reason. This is the longest way to say that Alex is Daphne’s, who is also my older sibling, in case I never mentioned it before.

The next morning, Daphne decided we needed to "explore the town’s cultural heritage" of the town, which is her code for dragging me to every antique shop and gallery within a five-mile radius. Our first stop was Old Joe’s Curiosities, a dusty little shop crammed with everything from vintage clocks to creepy porcelain dolls. Daphne was in her element, haggling over a brass candlestick while I tried not to knock anything over.

"You have no taste," she declared when I dismissed her find as "glorified junk."

"And you have no concept of space. Where are you even going to put that?"

"It’s called decor, Max. Look it up."

By the time we got to the town square, the weekly farmer’s market was in full swing. Alex had tagged along, armed with his new slingshot and an alarming amount of energy. Mom was busy chatting with everyone and their grandmother, leaving me to keep Alex from launching an apple at the baker’s stand. Spoiler alert: I failed. The baker, thankfully, found it hilarious. The same couldn’t be said for the pigeon Alex accidentally hit next.

"He’s your kid," I told Daphne.
"He’s your nephew," she shot back.

The evening was quieter. We sat around the fireplace, playing an intense game of Scrabble. Mom dominated, as usual, while Daphne accused her of cheating.

 "Quixotic isn’t a word," Daphne argued.

"Look it up, dear," Mom replied smugly.

My brother is still nowhere to be found. I’ll have to think about that one.

Sunday came too quickly. Mom insisted on sending us home with enough food to feed an army, including three loaves of her famous banana bread.

 "For the office," she said.

"They don’t deserve it," I joked, but she gave me that look, so I promised to share. Alex clung to my leg as we said goodbye, demanding that I visit again soon. "And bring Serena next time," he added mischievously. Little traitor.

Now I’m back in my apartment, staring at a mountain of leftovers and wondering how I’m going to explain the banana bread to Stephen without him eating all of it. The trip was chaotic, exhausting, and exactly what I needed. Here’s to family—the people who drive you crazy but somehow keep you sane.

Signing off,

Max Harvey, Banana Bread Guardian