Page 108 of It's Always Sonny

“What did you say?” I ask her.

Nonna looks at the empty space on her left ring finger. “If you try to be perfect, you’ll fail on your own. If you try to be whole, you just might succeed together.”

“And occasionally fail together,” Dad says.

“That, too,” Great Aunt Mary says with a laugh.

I look at PJ to find her looking back at me. My grandparents had such a short time together before my grandpa died. But Nonna has managed to keep our family strong for decades because of the love they had for each other. For the first time in my life, though, I wonder what that’s been like for her. Instead of marveling at her strength, I have a tiny sense of what it must be like for her to know that she was whole once and that she isn’t anymore. She hasn’t been whole in a long time.

Happiness, like perfection, is overrated. Fun and parties and games aren’t everything.

Happiness isn’t wholeness.

I’ve never needed anything to be happy, but I need PJ to be whole.

“Today’s been amazing already,” Sienna says. “Without the storm, we never could have helped those animals, and that was one of the coolest experiences ever.”

“And I’ve never even seen snow!” Harry says.

“Yeah, or a hot tub,” Daniel says, pulling his son into a headlock.

“And I finally got to see you whip out a full gymnastics routine,” I tell PJ. Her eyebrows sharpen but a smile plays at the corner of her mouth.

Nonna pushes to a stand, tapping her sister on the shoulder. “Mary and I have cooked for more people than this, haven’t we?”

Great Aunt Mary nods, and the two older women head straight for the industrial kitchen, along with half an army of aunts, uncles, cousins, and even a great grandkid or two. Nonna looks eager to be in her domain, but dinner is still hours away, so PJ and I raid the fridge and pantry and bring out every snack and leftover sack lunch available. Everyone who isn’t cooking sits in the pavilion eating food and designing T-shirts and family crests with puff paints.

“I’m sorry this ruined your itinerary. The blackout bingo really was ingenious,” I tell her as I doodle PJ hanging upside down from a bar … in a Spiderman costume.

I draw me standing next to her, because yes, I’m going there.

Yes, PJ blushes furiously to see that moment immortalized.

Yes, every member of my family comments on it.

And no, I don’t mind my love for her being a family affair.

“Why are you so good at art?” she asks. “How did I not know this about you?”

“A year and a half isn’t that long together,” I tell her. Especially not compared to forever.

“Why are you smiling about that?” I’ve never seen PJ draw before, so I have no sense of whether or not she’s a good artist. But she’s doing concentric circles in alternating yellow, orange, and red in the upper left side of the white shirt, and the effect is cool.

“Because that means there’s so much more to learn. More layers to peel back.”

“Yuck. Don’t give me some cheesy onion analogy,” she says. “I maxed out on business sayings in grad school.”

“I’ll put a pin in it,” I tease. My agent has used that one before.

“We’ll have to table this discussion for later.”

“Let’s put this one in the parking lot.”

“On the shelf.”

“Synergy.”

“Dynamism.”

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