“I think that should be the last of it,” mom said. She placed the box she carried up to my new room on the floor. The corners were starting to bend on each side from being pushed around the back of the moving van.
“Wow, that wasn’t so bad,” I said trying to catch my breath.
I didn’t even notice how bad my legs were shaking until I sat on my mattress. Then again, when you only had one day to pack and move up your entire life in weather so humid your clothes stuck together, it’s hard to hide it.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she told me.
She walked towards the door. There wasn’t a lock this time, not that there’s a need anymore. It’s been five years since I last saw him drive up that old street. He’s the reason we had to move abruptly anyway. Foreclosure was a bitch. I began sorting through my boxes, but not long before I heard a knock at my door. I looked up.
“I meant to ask you, what did you want for dinner?”
“Takeout?” I asked.
“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes.
“Can we get pizza?”
“Of course. I’ll ask your brother what he wants for toppings,” she told me taking her hand off the wall from leaning on it, “Call you down when it’s here.”
“Thanks, now if you’ll excuse me I have a lot of work to do here,” I said motioning towards a sea of cardboard boxes. She laughed at me.
“Don’t stay up too late organizing, you have all the time in the world to do it,” she said before she left. The sound of her bare feet made their way down the winding staircase.
I didn’t know where to begin. How easy it was to see how your life and possessions could be placed together in separate boxes. One for clothes, another for books, I didn’t know whether to feel content or scared.
So, I started with something easy, something I’ve been doing since I was little. I made my bed. It wasn’t hard to find it, they were piled altogether in a bag next to my dresser. I took everything out one at a time. The fitted sheet was always the worst as each corner came undone as I did it. The other sheet fell off every time I tried to put it on delicately. Both pillows got dressed up in their cases. And with only the comforter to put on everything eventually started to fall into place. As I sat on my now made bed, the same daybed I’ve had since I was little, I could feel the familiar springs coming undone beneath me.
Maybe this time would be different. Before I could even think about starting to put my clothes away I heard my mom’s voice echo throughout the house.
My feet matched the rhythm of the floorboards as I made my way downstairs. But no matter how fast I went the walls around me still seemed to close in on me with their disapproving stares.
I wanted this to be my home.
Most likely writing in my journals or notes in my phone, burying my face in a book, at a concert, laughing or eating fries. Recent college graduate with a ridiculous dream of wanting to write for a living.