Finding Harry

2. Finding Freedom

The ride to their place is a thirty five minute long awkward silence fest, filled with my grandma's quick side glances at me, it was as if she was worried I'd disappear into thin air. And really I think if I could I would. The air is different here, humid and yet dry. I miss the smell of Seattle, I miss the constant lingering smell of rain that's always in the air.

I miss the easy access to coke.

We turn into a Culdesac of two story houses each painted a varying shade of either grey or beige, exciting. I try and decipher which one is theirs by the picture I'd seen of the my Mom as a baby with her parents outside the house, it was the one of the only pictures from her life in Florida that was allowed to be on show in our apartment.

I spot the one thing that shows me which house is undoubtedly my grandparents a wooden bird box carved in the shape of a windmill, I'd know it anywhere. when I was six my Dad spent six months making the thing, but when he was finished Mom said it didn't match the decor of the apartment, I begged and begged for her to let us keep it, I loved it so much. But she was stubborn and I had to let it go.

We pull up outside the house, it's one of the grey ones. good I like grey better than beige. Beige reminds me of hospitals. looking outside the I see someone standing in the neighbours house peering through the upstairs window trying to get a good look at me. I squint, making out what I can of them, it's a girl with long shiny black hair. I smile a little when she notices me starring back at her and quickly walks away from the window.

My grandparents get out of the car first, I lean over the seat and reach into the back to pick up my duffle before getting out the car and slowly following after them. My grandad opens the door without needing to unlock it and I raise my eyebrows, thats definitely different, I think about what would happen if I left the door at home in Seattle unlocked. Yikes.

Stepping over the threshold I take in the smell of fresh sweet potato pie and chicken, my mouth begins to water.

"Oooh it smells good" My grandad says excitedly before quickly walking down the hall and opening a door on the right enthusiastically releasing more of the amazing savoury smell. 

"Why don't you put your bag down in the living room honey, then come join us in the kitchen" My grandma says smiling at me before turning round and walking into the room on the right that my grandad went into.   

to my left an open archway leads into the living room, decorated the exact type of way you'd expect a pair of old people to decorate a living room. A deep green couch sits a few inches from the archway an oak coffee table in front of it, both facing a fireplace. my eyes scan the room a second and third time, No TV. I don't mean to sound like some sort of bratty teen but god I hope they at least have wifi.

I place my bag down on the sofa and walk towards the fireplace mantel. It's decorated with pictures of My Mom when she was my age or maybe younger. She looks happy, smiling in every single one, even in the ones where you can tell she wasn't ready for the picture to be taken. I don't think I've ever seen her smile, the true genuine smile the way she is in these pictures. My eyes start to sting and I quickly turn around.

I see my grandad leaning on the archway watching me, I must've been snooping longer than I thought.

"You look almost just like she did you know" he folds his arms over his chest and smiles "Except you got your dad's eyes of course". I think of My Moms blazing almost golden eyes and of my plain dark brown ones "Come on your grandma's made you some soul food to tuck into after your flight" he continues.

"I'm actually not that hungry just tired really" My stomach growls in protest but I'd rather go hungry than sit through the questioning stares.

He nods silently as if expecting this from me, good this way we can get off on the right foot. no misconstrued expectations of me today.