"Truly, I'd do anything for him. If he really wanted me to, I'd do anything for him. If he asked me to walk away from the chance of a lifetime, I would...I'd probably even be happy about it." Fifteen years prior, Elizabeth waltzed into Harry's life...
I watched the green go by, just as I used to watch the towering buildings go by. Only I wasn't in a cab or a town car, and I certainly wasn't in New York City. I was so tired, but there was so much to see. It was a new world, and I wanted to take it all in. My mother hummed like a beautiful songbird in the driver's seat as she navigated the country roads like an expert. Even being six, I was too young to understand that she was an expert. This was her home, where she grew up, rebelled...and then finally fled. But now, she was back—we were back. New York was deep in our rearview, as was my father, my home, my friends and my life. As if she could read my mind, my mother smiled her breathtaking smile at me. "We're going to have a good life here, baby. I promise..."
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My eyes flutter open and I lift my head from my pillow. Smiling to myself, I think back to that day. I remember being so afraid and so excited all at the same time, for we had entirely started over. The blissful reverie that I'd awoken in, however, is quickly diminished when I take a look around my room. Laundry is scattered around like a tornado came in and whisked it about, only the tornado was me and I hadn't done a load in days. Grumbling, I slide off the bed and stretch my arms high up above my head. Once again, I choose to overlook my laundry and I walk downstairs. Early autumn in Shoreham was beautiful. The leaves had already begun to change, but the weather wasn't too brisk yet.
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My mum was in the garden, her hair pinned up with a pen and her easel propped up in front of her. Her singing is whimsical as it flows through the open window and I smile upon hearing it. I pour myself a cup of coffee before sauntering out to join her. "Morning." She doesn't take her eyes away from her canvas.
"Morning, darling." I sit down in the chaise lounge. "Sleep well?"
"Mhm...I had a dream about the day we moved here."
"Oh, what a good day that was."
"God, I can't believe it was fifteen years ago." She stops painting now and looks over at me, her legs twisted up, like a pretzel.
