Chasing Pavement ~The Write Awards Honorable Mention~

Chapter 3: Upstate

                                                                            Chapter 3: Upstate

   I woke up to the sound of gravel crunching under the car tires. I blinked a couple of times, yawned and stretched as I opened my eyes to my new surroundings. We had pulled off of I-84 into a small town. Not as small as a town in Kansas (which I had lived there before with a foster family, and it really did deserve to be called the middle of nowhere), but definitely not huge either. It was quaint, but very warm and welcoming. The buildings were kind of old fashioned, but the grass was a brilliant green and people were out and about, riding bikes or going shopping. The leaves were already orange and red, but still clung to the branches, not ready to give up life just yet, it being near the end of October and all. I looked at the window as we passed clothing stores, book stores, restaurants (not fancy ones, more like Mom and Pop’s diners kind of thing), a train station (which I stored in the back of my mind), a Laundromat, a gas station, and a movie theater among other things. It was so different from the city, but I loved it all the same.

                 After a few stoplights, Bill turned into a neighborhood called Azalea Grove, and Emily turned around and found that I was awake.

                “Hello sleepyhead,” she said cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

                I nodded. “Sorry for falling asleep, I didn’t get enough last night. You know, being held in a cell at a police station. Where are we?”

                “Blooming Grove,” she replied. “Not as glamorous as the city, but it has its perks.”

                “I love it,” I declared, and Emily and Bill beamed at each other. The neighborhood we were in had old, traditional houses that were all cookie cutters, meaning the architecture of the houses were practically the same and they had around four different variations, but it looked rather nice. The only word I could think of describing it as was quaint. I had never lived somewhere you could describe as quaint and actually mean it. In a good way, of course.

                Bill pulled into the driveway of a two story house that was painted sky blue with a white trim. The lawn was so full and green, and there was a small garden with blue rhododendrons, forget-me-nots, and cornflowers in front of the small front porch with a porch swing and two rocking chairs that led to the front door. Bill opened the garage door and Emily and I got out of the car so he could pull into the garage. The garage was a two car garage, but Bill and Emily had only one car, and the rest of the space was taken up by tools and art supplies as well as a washer and dryer. Emily and I climbed the three steps to the small front porch that seated two rocking chairs. There was a welcome mat on the floor, and I smiled. I never had a foster family who had a welcome mat.

                Emily dug the key out of her purse and opened the door. “Remind me to make you a spare key when I take you into town with me tomorrow,” she told me as she walked inside. I nodded and followed her, taking in my surroundings. I entered the front door and slipped off my sneakers to be polite, leaving my socks on. I looked to my right and saw a living room with a TV, a couch, a lot of comfy looking chairs, and on the wall, a DVD rack and bookshelf with pictures and knick knacks. Straight down the middle was a hallway with a door to the right just after the stairs, and another door at the end of the hallway. To the left was the dining room with a long mahogany table that would be perfect for seating a big family for Thanksgiving. Separating the dining room from the kitchen was a counter with two bar stools at it. The kitchen wasn’t anything special, just had rows of cabinets, a microwave, toaster, oven, dishwasher, sink, the usual. The kitchen had a back door that led to the backyard. Bill came in through the garage door which was on the back wall of the dining room.