The Imperfect Family: Embracing Our Flaws and Finding Harmony

Honestly, I saw everything, Mum snapped as we squeezed into our ancient Vauxhall Astra. You think Im blind? Youve been circling that blonde in the red dress all evening!

Jack and I exchanged a look. I hadnt noticed anything, and Jack later said Mum was just being dramatic Dad had been chatting politely with a guest.

That night stuck with me forever. We were driving back from a mates birthday bash, the sky already fully night. The stars were like silver confetti strewn across black velvet. Dad, whos usually cracking jokes at the wheel, was quiet the meds meant no booze. Turns out that forced sobriety didnt stop him, according to Mum, from flirting with some young lady.

Ellie, what are you making up? Dad sighed, turning the key. Thats Claire, we finished university together. Just old friends.

Mum wasnt having it. The dashboard lights lit up her face, which seemed to glow with heat. Twice she demanded a stop, leapt out onto the roadside, and walked ahead along the lane bordered by young pine trees. Dad followed each time, their silhouettes melting into the night. Once I caught a glimpse of them facetoface, Dad waving his arms like he was proving a point.

While the grownups were at it, Jack and I started a little Easteregg battle. Grandma had dyed them with onion skins, so they turned a dark gold with weird swirls.

My eggs tougher! Jack bragged when his survived another roll. Watch, itll smash them all!

When Mum and Dad finally got back, there was this heavy pause in the car. We drove in silence for about five minutes, only the wind whistling through the cracks. Mum curled up into a ball, her shoulders shaking.

No, youre not going to lose your head, you old cow! she blurted out, like a dam breaking.

And then it all came out every trip Dad took for work, every late night at the office, even the way he stared at a waitress three years ago. Words like hate, ruined my life, youre moving back with mum, and a looming divorce hung in the air like shattered glass.

Dad mostly stayed quiet, only tossing out Calm down or Youre overreacting. His face held that classic look raised eyebrows, pressed lips the one that always got Mum riled up.

Suddenly the car lurched, coughed, and stalled. Dad turned the ignition just a hoarse click.

Bloody hell! he slammed his palm on the steering wheel. Brilliant! Just perfect!

Mum fell silent, her anger flipping to panic.

Whats wrong? she asked, voice trembling.

Dont know. The engine died and wont start.

Dad popped the hood. I pressed my nose to the window. We were between the tiny village of Littleford and our own town, Ashford, its lights glimmering on a hill. On either side of the road, a young pine forest darkened the view. I remembered collecting hazel nuts there last autumn, hidden in the golden needles, slick and smelling of forest.

It looks like the carburettors clogged, Dad said, heading back inside. Well need to find help.

Im not staying here alone! Mum grabbed my hand. Its dark and scary.

We trudged toward the first row of houses, the lights of a private suburb flickering. Dad knocked on the gate of a house with a lit window. A man in a greasy jacket answered.

Need a hand? he rasped.

While Dad explained, Mum spotted a lit church nearby.

Well wait there, she said to Dad. A church is brighter, less frightening.

We barely ever went to church. Mum called herself a believer, but only turned to God in the toughest moments. Dad was an outright atheist, calling religion a relic of the past.

Inside, the church was bright and solemn. People stood shouldertoshoulder, the air heavy with incense and fresh bakery smells. Choir voices rose high, the music seeming to lift right up to the dome. Mum bought three thin wax candles at the entrance.

Lets light them and pray, she whispered. Ask for help.

How do you pray? Jack asked.

Just speak from the heart, Mum replied, pulling a white scarf from around her neck.

I watched Mum move to the big icon of the Virgin Mary, pause, and murmur something. In the candlelight her face looked peaceful, all anger gone.

I tried to pray too, but didnt know where to start. Should I ask for a fix on the car? That felt too petty for God. So I just wished, deep inside, that Mum and Dad would fall in love again, that our house could be calm and bright.

When I opened my eyes, Jack wasnt next to me.

Mum, wheres Jack? I asked.

We started pushing through the crowd, looking for him. Twenty minutes passed, panic rising. Mum was about to sprint after Dad when we saw a familiar figure at the doorway Dad, with Jack squirming in his arms.

Where did you find him? Mum rushed over.

He was by the church shop, looking at biscuits, Dad smiled. The cars running now.

How? You said

Honestly, love, I dont know. The bloke we met fetched a rope, I sat down, turned the key, and it coughed back to life like nothing ever happened.

We left the church. Our old Vauxhall sat right by the entrance, a thin wisp of steam curling from the exhaust.

Easter miracle, Mum whispered, crossing herself.

We drove home. The cabin smelled of pine needles and something mechanical. Mum stared out the window at the passing lights, then her hand slipped onto the gear lever. Dad looked at her, then, slowly, almost shyly, placed his hand over hers.

Im sorry, he said quietly.

And youre sorry too, Mum replied.

Dad lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. And thats how we rode the rest of the way hands clasped, Dad letting go just long enough to shift gears, then finding her again in the dim cabin.

Jack fell asleep on the back seat, and I watched the road disappear, thinking maybe miracles do happen, even on the most ordinary evenings with the most ordinary people.