A Song for Scarlett

Chapter One

Chapter One

I couldn't help but let out a sigh as I looked around the room I had lived in for 17 years that was now empty of everything that had once cluttered its corners.  This was it.  We were really moving away from the only home I had ever known.  The home where I lost my first tooth, read my first book, and played my first notes as young child learning piano.  I knew this day would come once I got over denying my father's death.  The house had lost its warmth and had become too empty for just my mom and me.  And yet somehow I couldn't bear the thought of leaving.  A part of me always hoped that my dad would come bursting through the door with his sparkling green eyes always full of excitement and announce his arrival home from his recent business trip.  But the other part of me, the part that had lost its ability to feel, took greater hold of my life and closed the door figuratively and literally on the past as I walked down the hall and outside to the moving van.

8 boxes.  All of my belongings fit into 8 boxes.  It sure puts your life into perspective when you can fit 17 years of life into 8 flimsy, cardboard boxes.    Now my dramatic side is showing a little when I say this, because I got rid of all my things except for my clothes a couple months after my dad died.  Most people would hear that and think "Are you crazy? Why would you get rid of all your stuff?" But that's just it.  It's just stuff.  Why would I want to keep all this stuff that just reminds me of a past I'm trying to forget?  And when you learn to not care, throwing away memories becomes pretty easy.  

When I finish putting all 8 of my boxes into the moving van my mom pops her head out the door of our house and shouts,

"Scar could you help me get the rest of the kitchen supplies? A couple more boxes and I swear I'll be ready to leave!" 

I don't say anything as I wander back into the house towards the kitchen, but my annoyance shows when I see the couple more boxes my mom was referring to.

"So I may have miscalculated a bit but the faster we get them loaded the faster we can leave." my mom says with an apologetic smile.  

My annoyance fades as I never could stay mad at her long, especially since she's the only one I still let see the real me.  I don't have to put up a lifeless front with her because she knows me too well and because I know the pain in me is mirrored in her.  

An hour later my mom finally closes the back of the van and turns to drape an arm around my shoulder as we stare up at the house.  I can tell she's going to get emotional if we don't get a start on our long trip to the Jersey shore from our Michigan home.  I can't say I'm going to miss a whole lot about this place.  All the friends I had gave up on me after I my dad died and I gave up on them.  They gave me a couple months to mourn and made excuses for my distance.  But when after a year's worth of unanswered texts and calls on my part and ignoring them at school, they stopped trying to excuse my behavior and just left me alone.  Nothing mattered anymore.  Parties, football games, gossip, even school in general became just another thing I didn't care about.  I only hoped that I could get through my last year of high school unnoticed, graduate, and go to college so my mom would stop pestering my about my future.  I had no intention of making new friends, joining any sports team or clubs, or being anything other than invisible. 

"Lets get going mom this house doesn't have anything to offer us anymore."  She turned to me with sadness in her eyes but I brushed if off and hopped into the van without so much as a look back at the house filled with memories of my father.