Hope you all enjoy and review me to tell me what you think!
This is a one-shot for the Review Game's Writing Challenge Contest, February.
Prompt: change something
Maybe it was just the rain, or maybe it was our cursed area, but for whatever reason, it was always muddy by our trailer. Grandpa said moving into this dumpy area would finally give us enough extra money to 'strike it rich.' Yeah, right. How many times had I heard that? Way, way too many. In fact, I could still hear his booming voice echoing through my mind. Every time, it was a different dream in his mind, a different destination, which of course meant a new school and a new set of kids to give me disdainful glares. Really, the shock of those horrible words had never really let go of me. But I could never let him know that.
I slipped off my formerly clean converse, which were now caked with mud, and slipped into our creaky, old trailer. This trailer had seen us through each move, and it was practically a part of our family. My little brother, Danny, wasn't anywhere to be seen, but I was guessing he was out somewhere in the woods, talking to his imaginary friend, pretending to be warriors or knights in battle. Danny had always had his head in the clouds, and I worried about him sometimes.
"Izzy, my girl! I've got fantastic news!" My grandpa appeared out of the kitchen, and my heart sank in my chest as I saw his grin. He was wearing a smile that stretched across his wrinkly old face, and it simply radiated excitement.
But I had seen that grin way too many times before, and I knew what it meant. It was the grin that came before the move. Old Grandpa never got that excited unless he thought he was going to strike it rich, for real.
Then again, that's what he always thought.
He sat down on our couch, and looked at me, the eagerness plain in his dark eyes.
"Okay, so this is how it goes." He stopped here for a dramatic effect, and took a deep breath. There wasn't much anticipation though, because really, I already knew what he was going to say.
"I've been searching on the internet, and I found this fantastic business plan! You give them your money, and then they invest it for you until you reach your desired goal of money! Doesn't that sound fantastic? We will have to move, of course, but the area has cheap rent, and a nice little school for Danny and you! Finally, we'll be able to go wherever we want, whenever we want, and live a life of luxary…"
He began to start a happy little ramble about our new life, but I snapped to attention when I heard him say:
"… and visit your parents up in Toronto! Oh Izzy, I just can't wait. I know you've been waiting so long to see your parents."
That, really, was the only thing that kept me going through all the constant change: the thought of seeing my parents. It's basically what I'd been looking forward to for all these years, the reason why I went along with my Grandpa's crazy ideas. Even the thought of seeing, hugging, and talking to my own mother gave me goose bumps.
He changed expression for a moment, thinking about my parents. But quickly, the animated vibe returned and he jumped up.
"So? What do you think Izzy? Do you think we're finally going to have a luxurious life?"
He spoke like he expected me to leap across the trailer and wrap him into a big bear hug. I just wished he would stop calling me that old nickname… Apparently that's what my mother used to call me.
"Grandpa. That's, that's… That's great. I'm not sure about the rich part, but I'm sure the move will be great. Just great," I managed to choke out. I tried to force a smile through the tears welling up in my eyes.
I turned away from his smiling face and rushed out of the trailer. I slipped on my muddy shoes, simply not caring. The fresh air welcomed me, and the rain began to wash away my hot tears.
I can't believe he's doing this again. We're moving. We're moving again.
Disbelief echoed throughout my mind, and slowly the news began to sink in. I didn't have a destination in my mind, but in another way, I subconsciously knew I was heading down to the river.
The river was where I cleared my mind. The water slowly rippling down, the trees comforting me, softly singing me a lullaby. It just soothed me.
But this time, as I approached the river, I didn't know what to do. I was so incredibly tired of moving. We had moved almost every year, and we never did become rich beyond our wildest dreams. Each time I saw my Grandpa dwindle away our money, and his excitement slowly died down until he hardly ever smiled. And then we would move again, and the deadly cycle would repeat.
But, although it had a similar format, each time there was a new school. New friends to make. New teachers, a new schedule, a new home. And I really didn't know how many more times I could start over.
Then, I did what I always did when I went down to the river. As the wind whistled through the trees, I rested under the shelter of the swooping tree. My already grimy hands pulled up a rock, inside, as I knew it would be, was my journal, tightly sealed in a plastic bag. I had poured out my heart and soul in my journal, and I didn't want to risk anyone finding it in the trailer.
My quivering hands took out my pen, and I started to write. I always felt so at ease in nature, and I the only way I could channel my emotions was through writing. My wet hair fell on the pages, and although I became chilly and began to shiver, I continued, until I was done this entry:
We're moving again, Mom. I know, we just did. But Grandpa is ready to reel in the money, as usual. He's never going to settle down until he does, which probably means he never will settle down. Sadly, that means I won't either.
This time, though, I can't say that I'm completely sad to leave… that boy, Jason, in Danny's class, was getting worse and worse, and although I worry about Danny's strange habitats, any kind of teasing isn't going to make it better. In fact, I think Danny's even more distant than he was.
But then again, another part of me just wants to make a shelter here down by the river and stay here, when Grandpa and Danny move. It's just a weariness in my soul; I cannot move again. I feel weighted down as if by chains, by each move. I don't dare to connect or try and make friends anymore because I realize that I will just lose them in a year or so, like with Kelly in the first move. Back when I was young and foolish…
Oh, Mom! Why can't you just be here!? I know that you thought this would be the best way, and that we would be happier living with Grandpa, and I do love Grandpa. But it's not the same as having a mom. I don't have anyone to talk to, and I think I'm just going to lose it.
Yet, I guess I will have to continue. I will tirelessly continue on with the moves. Well, it's not really the moving I don't like. We don't have much to pack up. It's the change. I've always been a laid-back person; I don't like to take risks or try new things. I just want a place where I can become comfortable and take things my own pace. But I can't! I'm always forced to move onwards, into a new, harsh climate. And really… I don't know what to do. I really just don't know what to do.
I love you, Mom.
A few tears slid down my cheek and onto the page before I could brush them back. I slid the journal into the plastic bag, and began to put it back into its hiding place, when I realized that I wouldn't be coming back to this river. This was my last visit. I slowly took back the journal, and slipped it into my coat.
I looked over at the bubbling water, rushing over the rocks. I looked at the grand trees, with their emerald branches, protecting me and comforting me when I came here sobbing. I looked at the rain that hid my tears and washed away my pain.
And as I turned away, I softly whispered to the place that had held me together, the place change was tearing me away from.