Nothing Is Ever Certain

Chapter 3: The Move

We had one day left. One day to pack all of our stuff and leave. Most of it was thrown out or sold, but plenty of work had to be done. I stood in the middle of my room analyzing the items that were dispersed in all places. The blue walls were filled with celebrity posters from random teenage magazines. They covered most of my walls, but it was how I liked it, even though I didn’t bother following their life’s gossip.

My bed was a mess of a purple bedspread and grey pillows. My desk was piled with dirty or clean clothes and homework that I never bothered to finish. Papers, books and clothes piled in the corners of my room. I didn’t know why I had so many colourful shirts or pants when I wore the dreary dark outfits. They were all reminders of who I used to be. I hadn’t been shopping for months, but it seemed as though I had a whole store in my room.

I sighed, realizing that I had to clean up the mess and fast because my mom was donating some unwanted belongings. Starting with the right corner, I cleaned my whole room from top to bottom and yawned heavily. Who knew it would take so long?

Three boxes lay in the hall. One said “Donate” and the others said “Sell” or “Keep.” All that was left in my room was my bed and a desk. It felt weird having it so…clear. I never realized how big my room was when scraps weren’t laying around. As I child I was very organized, but being depressed at the age of 17 meant I didn’t care. It didn’t matter whether my clothes were neatly hung in my closet or thrown on the floor into a pile. As long as I knew where to find it, I was fine.

I spent the night helping my mom wrap fragile furniture like glass coffee tables or ancient vases and it was awkward because we didn’t speak. There were several eye contacts, but nothing else and when it was over, we separated into our rooms.

Sleep took over my tired body when I crawled into my warm bed sheets. At 6 am the next morning, the movers were going to gather the tables, chairs and beds. The small fragile items and boxes were going to be put in our car for safe keeping. Santa Monica would take days to reach, so to avoid wasting time, we needed to leave early. I didn’t know why my mother wanted to move so far away, but I guess it was her way of escaping the past. I knew she wasn’t sleeping well, but neither did I. She was strong and I knew she would get through it.

My mother and I weren’t on speaking terms after my father passed. We both had dark circles under our eyes from lack of sleep, so a change was going to be good for us. We rarely had conversations and no one ever bothered with small talk, but we smiled and stayed out of each others way. It seemed odd, but it worked.

~

The alarm clock read 5:00 am. An hour until I had to start working. I laid in bed thinking. I had thrown out most of my dark clothes because they were depressing and dull. Packing up all of my belongings changed me. I smiled often and sometimes caught myself humming a happy tune.

I knew my mother didn’t like seeing me gloomy. It broke her heart and I saw it in her eyes when she looked at me. The move permitted me to become a new person.

The first step was my attitude. Being social was very important if I wanted to start a new life; I needed to make friends. I was never the shy kind, I chose to be silent. There was no point in starting conversations I didn’t want to discuss. They were useless. But I needed to put effort if someone tried talking to me, no matter how annoying or boring they are.

My attire changed, since I threw out my dark clothes. The clothes I kept had a little more life to them, but they weren’t much better. Hopefully, I’d find some cute stores that my mother and I could visit to start bonding again. I gave away items that brought misery to me. The only item I kept of my father was his Yankees shirt. Everything else was gone. I avoided buying dark, sombre colours unless they were necessary. My closet would be filled with colour and joy. No more dim sweatpants and old sweaters. Only varieties of clothing like shirts, shorts, jeans, and dresses. California is very hot, so I would only purchase a couple of thick sweaters.

My body jumped when my alarm beeped. I quickly shut it off and got dressed in black skinny jeans and a bright pink t-shirt.

As I reached the last step, the doorbell rang and my mom yelled for me to get it. I hopped towards it, while I slipped soft socks over my cold feet, and opened it with a swift twist of my wrist. Four bulky middle aged men stood before me and smiled. They all had short auburn hair except the fourth; he was blonde. They wore a uniform consisting of beige shorts and a blue polo t-shirt with a logo saying “Tucks’ Movers.”

Luckily, my mother arrived, as I stood in the doorway awkwardly, because I didn’t know her plans for them. They spoke for a moment and the men grabbed the heavy furniture first. My mom gave me a mini list of things to do. And so the move began.