A new beginning

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Chapter 1

The smell of damp earth lingered in the air. Crystal droplets dripping from branches as the car made its way up the driveway. “I haven’t been here in years” she whispered. The old house is still the same as she remembered it. She notices the swing is still on the porch and the chimes she hung just before she left gave a soft melodic tune in the breeze. “Right, let’s do this. “Nothing bad is going to happen right? It can’t be worse that things have been” she shrugged.

Up until now, she had been living in an old debilitating apartment, working 3 jobs just to make ends meet. Her father died three years ago due to liver complications and she hadn’t heard from her mother since the day she left with her dad at the age of 10. If any good came out of this, it would be that she could now start over in a new (well not so new but it was a significant change to her previous living conditions) place, get to know new people and finally start working on her art again. At the age of 25 she had never felt so excited. She fidgets in her pockets for the keys, finds it and takes in a deep breath before opening the door.

Her first steps inside brings back a strong nostalgia. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, K-pop playing from her mothers’ workshop (those were the best times), her dad busy with some intricate electric contraption. As she moves through the house, the arguments, the crying too fill the house. Next step is to get all her stuff in the house and check if the electricity is working. It’s not noon yet so you figure you have enough time to get most of the things done.

You move all your things to your old room and see that your mother has left it exactly like you left it. You trace your fingers over the dresser, foot of the bed and sit down. You wonder to yourself how life would’ve been if your parents didn’t get divorced, you didn’t have to move halfway across South Africa with your father because the courts found it in the best interest of the child that you live with your father. You wake, having no idea when you fell asleep. You can feel the heaviness in your legs. The 15-hour drive from the North West to Cape Town has finally started to kick in.

You make your way down the hallway and stop at the door which was your mother’s bedroom. You open the door, look at the room which by now has all been covered with white sheets. Her slippers still next to the bed. You are overcome with so much emotion. How did she live alone in this big house all by herself? Was she in pain when she died? You walk over to her closet, open it and see all her elegant clothes hanging and sniff the nearest coat to see if she still had the scent you remembered. You look around in the closet, moving things around. Till a box falls on your head. You yell something so profane that it would make your late mother roll over in her grave. You bend down, pick the box up, undo the ribbon. Upon opening it, you find it is filled with little memorabilia from a time long passed. At the bottom of the box is a leather-bound book. There’s a little lock on it and you tip out the box in hopes to find the key and buried under the pile of photos, you find it. You open the cover. There written in your mothers handwriting it reads:

“One night in a strange City”

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