Bleeding Color

1. Endings

Being a military brat has its disadvantages. I'm now realizing this as I'm discovering my new talent for stacking way too many moving boxes on top of one another and seeing how far I can make it without running into something. So far, fourteen steps with three of these ridiculously sized boxes is my record.

I cautiously make my way down the very non-intimidating steps that suddenly seem a lot more intimidating with every step I take. Once I make it to the driveway, I hand the boxes off to my mother and she throws them into place on the back of the moving truck parked outside of our house - soon to be our old house. My mom had offered to give the movers a break and move the last few of our boxes on our own.

I take advantage of the opportunity to breathe in the moment following my mom taking the boxes. My mom looks at me with her emerald eyes and smiles, brushing a loose strand of my dirty blonde hair behind my ear. She doesn't have to speak for me to know she's apologizing to me. She feels guilty for making me move just before my last year of high school. I smile back at my mom, reassuring her that I'm at peace with the idea of leaving Florida. Granted, Florida is the nicest place my mom has gotten stationed, and I'm definitely going to miss wearing shorts all year round, but how bad can Maryland be?

My younger sister, Christina, opens the door to yell out to me. She asks if I've done my last sweep of the house before we leave. I make my way up the porch steps and into the house for the last time. Christina stands only three inches shorter than me, but considering my small height of 5'3", I take every inch I can over her. I walk past her through the door as she picks up her last couple boxes. She flicks her head to the side a couple times, attempting to move her long blonde locks out of her face. I let Christina take a step out of the door before I grab her shoulders to stop her.

I pull Christina's hair back into a ponytail. She resists me at first, but knows there is no use and ultimately gives in. She grunts in disapproval, but I don't take the glare she sends me to heart. Christina is putting on a grumpy front about moving, but I know it's just her hatred of the packing and unpacking process fueling her crabby attitude.

Christina has sworn to our mom several times now that she has no issues with leaving at all. Christina is fourteen and will be a freshman, and has promised that she won't miss the pricks she had to deal with in middle school – her words, not mine.

I quickly, but carefully walk the perimeter of every room in the empty house. We've efficiently removed every last object from every last room. My stepfather, Jayson, is running frantically through the house making sure we didn't forget anything. I can't hold back a small chuckle at the sight. Once Jayson finally exits the house, my mother, Christina, and I are all waiting in the driveway, standing beside the car.

We decided to sell Jayson's car, and get him a new one once we got to Maryland. He's due for an upgrade anyway. My mom smiles at Jayson and kisses his cheek, telling him that there's absolutely nothing we left behind.

Jayson is only about an inch taller than my mom, who's around 5'6". He's a thinner guy, and is definitely the more timid one in my parent's relationship. He's a journalist and a writer, which tends to be fairly convenient when you're married to someone who has to move around a lot.

My mom is in the navy. Most of the work she had to do in Florida was on base, which meant that she only had to leave for a few days at a time occasionally for travel. It's nice being able to come home and know she's waiting there. It was a lot harder when Christina and I were younger and my mom would be who knows where.

Jayson sends the movers on their way, and the four of us remaining in the driveway pile into my mom's SUV. My mom takes the first shift driving. Christina doesn't wait more than seven seconds to put in her earbuds and block out the rest of us. We back out of the driveway, and I'm the only one to look back at the house.