Moving-New-Home

Walking through the old, silent house was like walking through one of the photo albums in the big wooden chest in Liesa’s room. It pulsed with the heartbeat of memories as time stood perfectly still. Liesa’s thoughts echoed in her mind as the cool, dark house danced with shadows from the sun flitting through the trees outside the windows. It looked so… empty. Liesa had been told weeks ago that this ancient house would be vacant soon, that it was eventually going to be demolished because of its age. Back then, the effects of the move hadn’t quite sunk in. But now they had. Gone. The word was a common thread tying all the rooms together. Each one complained of its own losses. The television used to be here, reminded the living room—and the coffee table used to rest there. The old rolltop desk, always full of uncharted jungles of junk, had made the big indent on the carpet. How much bigger the room felt without it! Liesa continued tracing an invisible map in her head. Here—by the door. This was where the lamp stand had been situated. She remembered how often their dog would knock it over as he bounded, barking, across the room to the window seat to watch Liesa’s little sisters and brothers come home from school, day after day. Liesa smiled at the memory. Moving like a shadow through the familiar rooms, Liesa touched each familiar object—a small nail hole, a crack on the wall that resembled the state of Idaho—trying to absorb every part of this finely detailed scene. Liesa saw the confusion in Chloe’s eyes as the elderly cat viewed what had once been her home In the kitchen, Liesa was greeted by an empty floor where the table used to be, the table around which she had sat with various people over the years—quiet grandmas bent over their latest crossword puzzles and knitting projects, loud groups of school friends, little siblings conversing over breakfast or struggling with homework alone into the afternoon. In this house, everything had its place, Liesa realized. Take one thing away and the jigsaw puzzle is incomplete forever. The china cabinet, the coat rack, the comfy bright blue sofa; everything seemed to have a meaning. They all seemed to fit perfectly together to create a gentle rhythm, like the steady beat of a song or the carefully chosen words of a poem, all jumbled together to form a perfect verse that didn’t have to rhyme. Without each other, something would be missing forever. Liesa could hear the dull hum of the truck outside. She had to go soon. The faint voices of her family drifted inside, sounding happy and eager to be off. Nobody seemed to miss this house. Nobody seemed to care except Liesa. True, it was an old-fashioned, well worn home, but that was why she liked it. It had so much more character; so much more meaning… it almost seemed to be like a living person—different, one of a kind. As Liesa reached the base of the rickety stairs, she turned away. She couldn’t go up. She couldn’t go and see the room she spent the first half of her life in, not when it was going to be demolished soon. It was time for something new—a new room, a new home. The sounds of the happy commotion outside grew louder, gently beckoning Liesa to leave the silent solitude of the hollow, empty home. Just a few more minutes, she silently begged, looking out across the backyard. Where were the little maple tree saplings her father had planted when they had moved in, years ago? Where were the tiny shoots, the bare fields? They had all grown since then. Before her mind’s eye, she saw in a moment every soccer game, sunset picnic, every sunlit afternoon spent underneath the old oak tree. She remembered every game with her brothers and sisters that had led them beyond the short stone wall into the ocean-like fields of grain beyond. Liesa sighed, turning away. Just then, something in the doorway caught her attention. The little white-and-brown-spotted cat stood staring at Liesa, its wise, green eyes piercing Liesa’s thoughts. “Chloe,” Liesa breathed, the sound of the name echoing through the bare room. Immediately a warm sense of familiarity washed over her. Chloe had been there since Liesa was little and had watched Liesa grow up and leave childhood behind. The wise old cat had been there through good and bad times, always offering a gentle purr or an affectionate rub to those who needed it. Liesa saw the confusion in Chloe’s eyes as the elderly cat viewed what had once been her home. Where was her cat bed, her warm hearth rug, or the comfy armchair on which so many winter days had been spent napping? “Oh, Chloe.” Liesa knelt and buried her face in Chloe’s warm, sweet fur. The scent was a familiar one, one that seemed to linger in the back of Liesa’s memory. Tears, laughter, storms, sunny afternoons— Chloe had silently observed them all, never saying anything, never being noticed. Liesa carried Chloe outside onto the sunlit porch. Setting her down, she locked the front door, sealing off her old memories and beginning a new journey to a place she’d call home. Chloe looked confusedly at the tightly closed door as Liesa started down the porch steps, then scratched lightly on its rough wood. Liesa shook her head, trying to pry the cat off of the doorstep, but it was clear that Chloe was reluctant to leave the beloved place where she had been born. “Come on,” Liesa said softly, trying to coax her away. She tried to sound reassuring, but how could she comfort Chloe if, deep down, she really felt exactly the same way? “Liesa, everything’s ready. Got the house key?” Liesa heard her mother call from the trunk of the blue minivan. “Got it,” she replied, holding up the key before shoving it

I think about how my life is like those two dice I sit at our dining room table playing Monopoly with my brother. It is my turn to go so I pick up the dice and cup them in my hands. As I shake them around in the bowl that I made with my hands, I think about how my life is like those two dice. Bouncing around, never slowing down, never stopping. My life is exactly like those dice, it is different in only one way. When I let go of those dice, they’ll topple onto the board and roll to a stop. I wish it was the same way in my case. I take my hands apart and let the dice fall to the board. I wish it was like that in my life. For months we had been moving from one place to another. Sometimes down the street, sometimes out of state. “When is it going to stop? Or at least slow down?” I ask myself over and over again. I want desperately to just stay somewhere. I can’t even talk to my pen pal anymore since my address has been changed so many times this year. I was brought back to earth by my brother’s voice. “Jamie! It’s your turn! I’ve been calling you for like five minutes!” “Sorry,” I answer, “I’ve just been thinking a lot.” “I’ll say you have! We aren’t going to be able to finish this game before the grandparents come over this afternoon. Now go, it’s your turn.” As I pick up the dice the same thoughts tumble through my head about my life. The grandparents were coming over this afternoon as an informal going-away party. We were moving again. This time to North Dakota. That was one of the things I liked about living here in Missouri, being close to relatives. It was going to be hard to say good-bye to them, especially Grandpa. Every time they came over I would sit next to him and chew one of his homemade mints while he would tell me an interesting fact off the top of his head. He never looked anything up online. Sometimes it seems like his knowledge is never-ending. He says that he owes it all to the reading that he had done when he was a boy. “Do you have a mint and a fact for me today, Grandpa?” I had a special present that I had made for the both of them. It was a little silk lap pillow with my full name inscribed on it in fancy writing. I had also put “Love you for always.” It was sort of something for them to remember me by. We wouldn’t be seeing each other for a long time and I didn’t want them to forget me. Maybe I was silly for thinking that they would forget me, I don’t know. Anyways, the afternoon finally rolled around and soon it was time for us to get dressed. Even though it was informal we wanted to look nice. I put on jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. I also put a blue ribbon in my hair. In case you haven’t noticed, blue is my favorite color. I heard the doorbell ring so I went to answer it. It was the grandparents, of course. I welcomed them inside and we all sat down at the table to eat. We had made lasagna for supper because that was everyone’s favorite meal. Somehow we avoided talking about the move over supper and the conversation stayed on light topics. After dinner, however, the conversation turned to the move. I didn’t really want to talk about it so I went over and sat down by Grandpa on the couch. “Hello, Jamie,” he says with a smile. “Do you have a mint and a fact for me today, Grandpa?” “I always do,” he answers, chuckling. He hands me a mint while he thinks of something to tell me. He finally speaks. “Did you know that bananas grow upside down?” he asks. I shift the mint over to one side of my mouth. “They do, Grandpa?” “Yes, little one,” he answers. Then he notices that Grandma is motioning that it is time to leave. He puts his arm around me, giving me a sideways hug. “It is time for us to say our good-byes,” he says, standing up. We all gather by the doorway to say our good-byes. Grandma crosses over to me. “I made something for you,” she says, pulling a shawl out of the bag that hangs on her arm. “To keep you warm up in North Dakota,” she explains. “Thank you so much, Grandma,” I say. “I will wear it for always.” We hug close, tears in our eyes. “I made something for you also,” I say, pulling the pillow from behind my back. She thanks me and we hug again. When we part, I go to look for Grandpa. “Ah, Jamie, I have been looking for you. These are for you.” He handed me three packages. “But do not open them until tomorrow when you are driving.” “Yes, Grandpa,” I say, trying not to cry. I set the packages on the table so I can hug him with both hands. The next day I am sitting in the car slowly opening the three packages. The first is his old pocket watch. The second is a letter. It reads as follows: Dear Jamie, First, I must explain to you about the packages. Every time you cross a border to a new state, do these three things: wind the watch, eat a mint, and read a note. They are all new facts that I haven’t told you yet. And now, good luck at your new home. I know that you will fit in wherever you go. Love, Gramps So I fold up the letter and put on the shawl to wait until we cross the Iowa border. About two hours later Mom calls