"...Well I think this plant stuff is a waste of her time. I don't want my baby to be exposed to all that dirt. And what about all the damage the soil will do to her nails. Just think, a house on the beach, sand under our feet every day. Those kind of houses aren't even that expensive..."
As I walk in I hear that familiar tone my mom always uses when she wants something.
"Since when do you want to move?" I say, interrupting her.
"Oh, hi honey! I got a job in Florida, and I hear the have beautiful -."
"Oh." I said, though she did not hear me.
She continued on. "houses. Oh, how I would just love to live in a beach-side house!" She stopped to look at me and saw the look on my face.
"Look, I know it will be hard to move, but think of the good things-"
"Like what?" I could feel my anger level rising. She was only just telling me about this now. "All of my friends are here and so is my school. It's not like we can just pack up and move-"
"Well, actually. I already called the moving guys, and some of our stuff is already packed. I was waiting to tell you because, well you know, I was afraid that you would get angry."
"I am angry!" I gave her a hard stare and stomped to my room, only to find some cardboard boxes next to my dresser.
I was really mad now. The milkweed had just started blooming and I wasn't about to just pack up and move to some state a million miles away. Northern Michigan was perfect for growing milkweed. The Great Lakes were nearby and there were swamps close to our house. I didn't care about whether or not we lived on a beach, I was happy here. I had thought that I had made that abundantly clear. We had lived on the tip of Michigan for my entire life. My whole childhood stored in the dirt beneath our house. All of my memories, friendships... They were still here.
I had come to a conclusion: If they wanted to move, either I was staying behind, or they would have to pry the front door's doorknob out of my cold dead hands.
