Compassion and Oblivion

Chapter Two: Grandpa's Miracle

***

Dearest (Y/N), If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life...real connections with other people and nature. So, I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I've enclosed the deed to that place...my pride and joy: (Farm Name) Farm. It's Located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It's the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it's yours. I know you'll honor the family name, my girl. Good luck.

Love, Grandpa.

P.S. If Lewis is still alive, say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?

***

Grandpa left me his farm? And their old cottage?

You had often wondered what became of (Farm Name) Farm in the years after Grandpa passed away. You used to spend a lot of time at Grandma and Grandpa's cottage in the summertime during your childhood, while your parents tried to 'work out' their issues, unsuccessfully. You loved helping Grandpa pick his tomatoes and hot peppers, and you and Grandma would always try to guess which melon would grow to be the biggest. One summer, one of the melons grew so big, you could've sworn it was taller than Grandpa! You're sure that was just your childlike imagination, though...

You have so many fond memories of that farm. You can even remember making a few friends with some of the other local children that were similar to you in age. You used to skateboard around with a goofy blonde kid, while a girl with red hair would yell at you to be careful. You loved skateboarding so much as a kid that you even invested in a longboard now that you're an adult, for cruising around the city during the warmer months. What were those kid's names, again? I haven't seen them since I was twelve or thirteen. Maybe they still live there?

Does this mean...that I can just move there? I can quit my job, uproot my life, and move to the coast? Start a new life on the old family farm, just like that?

Thinking about it briefly, you don't have much of a life to uproot, anyway. You're single, you don't have any family living nearby, and you don't even have friends in this city. Working at Joja, you've been much too busy to make any friends, but not for lack of trying. You occasionally smile at the other people in the cubicles adjacent to yours, but the workflow is just too fast-paced to allow for building rapport with your coworkers. If you don't meet your quota of sales, there are consequences. Over the last few years, you have noticed that the faces around your office would change every now and then. You always envied your old coworkers for moving onto bigger and better things - maybe getting a new job, or perhaps moving out of Zuzu City. At least, that's what you hope happened to them.

You don't even have very many belongings that you would have to pack into boxes, should this be what you decide. Most of your items from your adolescence are still packed away from when you moved out of your parent's home a few years back. You're far from a fashionista, so you don't have many clothes to pack, either. Your biggest concern is the few pieces of furniture you have collected from thrift stores and donation centers. Surely, your bed, dresser, nightstand, couch, TV stand, and small dining table with two chairs would fit into a small U-Haul truck, right? Wait, can I drive a small moving truck without getting into an accident?

Woah, woah, am I actually considering this? I don't know how to run a farm! I don't know anything about running a business, or even gardening. I've only ever lived in this cramped apartment during my adult life, I've never even been able to have a garden! I have a lease on this apartment, too.

Well, come to think of it, your lease is up next month. It always renews at the beginning of the year. The apartment managers have already placed the lease renewal and cancellation forms by the rent drop box. If you don't renew your lease, you can use the money you have set aside for next month's rent to pay off the water bill!

I am actually considering this.

You can put your notice in tomorrow at work, they'll have just over two weeks to find your replacement. Since you're giving them a full two weeks notice, you'll get a payout from your accumulated paid vacation and sick time. That would give you a little bit of wiggle room, financially speaking. Then you'll have until the first of the year to pack your belongings and look into truck rental rates.

This is starting to feel more possible, but there is still the issue of not knowing how to run a farm...Oh, and it's also the middle of December. No plants are going to grow right now, or for the next few months with snow on the ground.

You recall that there was a small library in the town where your Grandparents used to live. Your grandma would make you walk down there with her every so often so she could pick out a new novel. Though, you suspect it was probably so you would take a good nap that afternoon... Maybe the library has some books about farming that you can study while you wait for warmer weather?

Wow, I'm really considering this. This could work. This could actually work!

Grandpa also made a decent side income from fishing and foraging for local wild fruits and vegetables. You used to help him pick wild grapes during the summertime, and you would sell them to the local general store for your allowance. Those afternoons spent walking the paths behind his cottage and collecting grapes, spice berries and sweet peas were so peaceful. You really did feel connected with nature, like Grandpa said in his letter. On some of those walks, he would tell you that there was more than one way to make a living.

"Some day," he'd say, "I might decide that I'm tired of farming. I know I won't have to worry about anything, though. I want you to remember this, (Y/N). There's more than one way to make it through your life. I don't have to feel like I'm stuck being a farmer for the rest of my days, when I could be a fisherman, or a miner, or even a bartender at the Saloon! I have a multitude of options to make a living. The same will go for you too, some day, when you have a grown-up job."

Back then, you didn't really know why he was telling you that. You just wanted to hurry to the general store to sell your grapes so you could buy that cool glow in the dark yo-yo. Now, you realize, he wanted you to know that you don't have to be stuck behind a desk for the rest of your life to make a living. There are so many more options, there is so much more to life that you have been missing while you slave away at Joja Corp.

"Grandpa," you whisper, "I promise I won't let you down. I won't give up. I will make it work no matter what. This was your last gift to me, and I will do my best to live up to your name."

You recline back onto your bed, letting your legs hang off the edge. You gather your racing thoughts and try to herd them into a semi-coherent to-do list. Is it too early to start packing? I've never canceled utilities before, how does it work? Can I just transfer the services to the cottage? Ugh, there's so much to figure out. But, you just made a promise that you would make this work. You'll start making the necessary phone calls and arrangements tomorrow during your lunch break. For now, you need to eat something for dinner and get some rest. You'll need all the rest you can get, if you're going to muster up the courage to put in your resignation tomorrow.

After throwing together a gourmet meal of grilled cheese and a few baby carrots, you take a quick shower. Along the way, you mentally note how many boxes you will need to pack up your kitchen and bathroom. After going through your nightly schedule, brushing your teeth and doing the bare minimum of what could be considered a skin care routine, you curl up in bed and put your favorite animated movie on your small TV for some quiet background noise.

I wonder what that old cottage looks like after all this time. It's probably so dusty! I can't believe it's mine, Grandpa wanted me to have it, and I get to keep it. No more rent, no more apartment managers who don't answer their phones, no more eavesdropping on my neighbors when they have a fight. I guess I'll kind of miss that part though, it was a pretty great source of entertainment, albeit a loud one. In a couple weeks, no more Joja. I can do this.

You hold your blankets a little tighter at the excitement brewing in your chest. You release a content sigh - something you haven't felt in some time. "Thank you, Grandpa," you whisper as you close your eyes, settling in for a peaceful sleep.