We're driving along, right in the middle of nowhere. Mom fell asleep although my dad and my brother Lucas are loudly complaining about the instructions for getting to our new house. I'm just looking out of the window, along the street and the giant corn plantations.
Finally, after whole 17 hours, we're "home".
It seems like the house and the church would hide from us and that feels strange. The rest of my family is totally amazed and they're exploring their surroundings. The house isn't really big, but actually it's big enough for us. My room is in the second floor, just like my brother's. My parents' room is in the first floor but I guess my father won't spend much time there. He's in the church and prepares it for the renovation. My mom's decorating the kitchen and the living room, everywhere needs to be a cross. Above every single door. It's not that easy living in an catholic family when you're not believing in anything the bible says. I believe in God, but that's all. I also think, if there's something good, there must be something evil too. At least in my mind.
Time for dinner. Dad talks on and on about his new job, the "church makeover", we others are just listening. I'm the only one who's not interested at all. It seems like the church means more to him than his own family, but I'm not complaining about it. At least he's happy about his new hobby.
