Reliance

The Move

        She gently stroked her fingers down the banister, as if to collect every memory through the sense of touch. Glided down the hallway tracing the growth chart in the door jamb. A feeling of grief rushed over her as she passed over the handwriting of her mother. She reminisced the last words she spoke to her,

"don't you be sad now, it happens to the best of us. Promise me you will find your true purpose in life and never give it up."

She replied

                                  "only for you."

She packed all of the memories and all of her belongings into boxes. She was leaving behind her childhood, the only life she had known.

"Whitney, the truck is here we have to start loading it up"

                                      "Ok dad, Just let me say goodbye to all the rooms one last time."

Gary looked at her like he hadn't  slept in weeks. Before the death, he had worked in a paper mill. He lost a finger or two in presses but that didn't stop him from living a full life. He made good money and was able to live comfortably into his forties. Now he looked older than fifty. His auburn hair was disheveled. His dark circles were even worse than when the death first occurred. He met her mother in 1996 in an elevator. It was the cliche meeting. The elevator stops, they talk for hours, fall in love and live happily ever after. But they didn't love happily ever after. Instead she died. His green eyes were glossed over almost on the verge of crying. He was once such a strong man.

She went up the stairs of her childhood home. Straight ahead of the staircase was her mother's room, she hadn't entered it since the machines hummed. She skipped over this room and turned to her right, this was her bedroom.  She walked in joining the pale grey walls and hardwood floor. The boxes were packed to the ceiling. Mysterious strangers entered the room and hauled the boxes out of the once furnished room. She went into the bathroom and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Her blond hair trailed down her jawline to her shoulders. Her green eyes darted back and forth admiring the woman her mother had raised. Her body was petite and small just like her mother's, before the death.

She treaded back down the stairs and into the kitchen where the family would eat exotic and homemade foods. The countertops were white granite and shined to the light above. She strolled into the family room where all the memories were made. Where the family cheered when the Superbowl played. Where the family cried when her grandmother died. She felt this dread and guilt hanging over her telling her not to leave.

She made her way to the front door before turning around one last time and shutting the door.