I looked up from the box I was holding and glanced around the empty room. This is it, I thought. My last time in this house. I couldn’t believe that after living here for over 16 years, I would have to move. To have to pack up all of the memories and drag them west. But too much had happened here, and so much had changed in so little time.
Slipping on my sandals, I pushed my glasses back up my nose and adjusted my braid. I locked the door to our old Victorian house, knowing that I would never do so again. I made my way into the moving van, where Mom had been waiting for me.
I had always been close with my mom. She had me when she was only 19, and I was extremely grateful for everything she had done for me, everything she sacrificed. Up until recently, she always wore a brave and strong mask, and I admired her everyday for that. But after the losing my father, I saw her break down for the first time ever. It had been especially hard on her because she felt that it had been her fault. Not that it actually was. But she still blamed herself for it.
My dad had been on the way to pick up my mom from the airport when it happened. It had been planned that my aunt would pick up my mom, but she was called in to work last minute. Since my mom didn’t want to take a taxi, she had my dad come pick her up. But it had been raining that night, and the roads were still slippery. My dad ended up in a horrible accident, and I’m sure you can guess the rest.
So now here we were, moving to a different state, moving away from where all of the events that had happened took place.
“Are you ready, Mom?” I asked, studying her face. She was still, unreleased tears pooling in her bottom eyelids. I reached over the center console, wrapping my mother in a tight embrace, knowing that we both needed the support. We stayed like that for a while, holding onto each other.
Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I let go of Mom and sat up straight. As I took one deep, hiccupped breath, I stared at the house once more. Goodbye, Leedsville.