Greendale

Moving Day

The day started out beautifully, rainy and glum, a good day to cozy up with a good novel. I always enjoyed the rain, it was a good excuse to lock myself indoors and enjoy time away from the world. The day would've been one of those good days if my parents weren't up and moving to a new place, giving me no choice but to go.

My father, Joseph Clayton had landed himself a partner role with the mine owner, Mr. Kinkle in Greendale. My father was very keen on the idea but my mother, Lorelei Clayton wasn't as certain, having to leave behind her family legacy of working at the power plant in their now, old city Annadale, New York to become a stay at home mom.

Yesterday was the last day at Grovers, our town old Bookshop where I had to resign. I worked two hard years after high school following my dreams to one day open my own shop. The glorious landmark was owned by Matthew Grover, my best friend Kally's father, so it was easy to score the dream job.

"Lets go Lyds! Time to pack up the truck" screamed my father from down stairs.

Being the only child meant I was the only one that helped carry heavy boxes and, since my mom wasn't really any help, it went down to my father and me; but on the Brightside my parents let me live out my dreams by letting me stay in their home so, in the end I cant complain.

As I made my way down the stairs I slowly walked, collecting my emotions before I met with my sobbing mom. I let three tears roll down my face as I looked at the bare walls that used to hold my childhood memories in gold rimmed frames, this home was the only one I'd ever lived in and I had to leave now.

I collected my thoughts and sucked it up. Once I was down the stairs I walked into the living room to collect the last of the boxes, passing by my mother who was huddled on the hard wood floor bawling her eyes out dramatically.

"Lor we need to finish so we have some daylight left to unpack tonight" My father called from the front door sighing heavily.

"I just can't Joe! My baby grew up here!" she sobbed loudly.

"Mom we'll make new ones, come on" I claimed while I maneuvered around her and headed for the truck.

After my mom decided to make it towards the truck with the last kitchen boxes we watched my father lock the house one last time and I shed one last tear over this house.

I looked at my 1959 Bel Air behind the truck on the trailer, wanting to drive by myself all the way to Greendale. instead I'm stuck hearing one of my parents whine for the whole eight hour drive.

"Lyd you can ride with your mom and then halfway switch out and you can drive" My father muffled as he jumped into his old truck. I just nodded.

The drive was long and painful, my mom whining the whole time about her neck hurting and how boring the drive was going. Each landmark revealed how slow the time really ticked by and my mom really didn't mind talking even though she knew I wasn't paying attention to her.

After two rest stops and four hours later, I was the driver and my mom was taking her "beauty rest". I was bored being the driver but it was a lot more enjoyable than hearing my mom complain about traffic and how far away Greendale is.

Seven hours and fifty minutes later, we pulled into a Diner just outside of chilly Greendale, rain seeping through the trees that laid overhead the parking lot. My parents were exhausted and I too started feeling that taking toll on me but we still had to take the boxes out of the truck and unpack in the new house.

"I'm in need of a double cheeseburger" Smiled my weakened father as he motioned for us to head inside.

"me too pops" I smiled back.

The diner was small and barren with only two other signs of life, the cook and the waitress. The diner had an aroma of dust and death that wafted through the air, the wallpaper was tearing on the back walls leaving a slowly deteriorating look that signified a wrongful decision of dining here which I knew my mother was crying on the inside about. It was 5 o'clock rush hour and the signs of life in this establishment spelled out just how much people loved it here.

The waitress was depressive and the food tasted as well as she acted. I could tell after my mom ate that salad with the bland looking chicken that she wanted to go as fast as possible. My father quickly tipped and we bolted for the door.