I moved all the time as a kid. It was hard, never staying in the same place. My dad used to say that we were lucky, not everyone experienced new things so frequently. But there is a loneliness to what is new. The faint trace of the old lingers on in your mine like a ghost and taints your perspective. Will it be just as good as where I was before? Will it be better? Will I be happier here?
There is that loneliness from what was lost.
But I remember one place we moved to, when I was fifteen. Of course, I will never forget. There are things you can never forget. Like riding a bike, or your first broken heart. You like to think only the good will stay with you but just as every cloud has a silver lining, so does every silver lining have with it a big, fat storm cloud. The positive and the negative are never too far apart.
Anyway, I remember every detail of the rickety old house we moved into, with the faded blue window panes and the swing set that screamed like a banshee whenever my sister or I used it. I remember the comforting smell of age and wisdom that clung to the place like a woman's perfume. I remember the high ceiling in my bedroom, the thick cobwebs and layered dust. But it isn't the place that held any importance to me, it was the people. And it is the people I encountered that make the story I am about to share. A story not even I would have believed.
"I hate this place already," Cassie grumbled, shrinking back from the car window as the scenery slithered by. In her hand she held her phone, gripping it like Van Helsing would a crucifix. I wondered just how many contacts my sister had collected over the years. I wondered if she even spoke to them all. Probably not. I wouldn't speak to Cassie if I were finally free of her. Though that isn't the most PC thing to say about my thirteen-year-old sister.
"You haven't given it a fair go," Dad sighed, rubbing a hand over his prematurely graying hair. Salt and pepper, I think it's called. He was always telling us to give things a 'fair go'. I maintain the opinion that he had had his teenage years wiped from his mind, otherwise he wouldn't have subjected us to countless 'first day of school' experiences.