"I just can’t do anymore!” Megan flung herself onto the ground dramatically in front of the apartment building we’d just been thrown out of in Mountain View. She lay in the soft green grass. “I’m just too tired!”
“I’m tired too,” I shouted back as I walked down the flight of steps for about the millionth time with yet another box of something or other – an endless sea of boxes. “Hey, I know we’ve all been working really hard, but the job has gotta get done.”
“But I can’t DO anything, please Mom…” Josh and Pyke, who’d been like supermen just the day before when we moved all the furniture out and a bunch of boxes as well, lounged by the curb and smoked cigarettes.
“C’mon, just a few more boxes…we’ve gotta get everything out…” I was sore too, in places I didn’t even know existed. It’s your fault we have to move, so everyone get up and get going.
I’d just picked up my niece, Merehuka, from San Francisco International Airport, driving around in circles several times looking for my beautiful niece whom my brother had just decided out of the blue to send to me for an undisclosed amount of time. The timing couldn’t be worse, but who knew we’d have to move yet again? Merehuka said she traveled for around 24 hours straight and hadn’t slept at all, so she fell asleep in the car while all this craziness happened. My good friend Emily was cleaning and Debby’s truck was all ready to go.
“C’mon, let’s go.” I felt like a drill sergeant or something – I really wanted to get it done…all we’d done for the past week is pack and move and I was tired, dead tired, and I didn’t want to do it anymore than those kids did.
Finally, they all started moving, Josh, Pyke and Megan, trudging up the steps looking lost and forlorn as if I was ending them on a perilous journey.
No one said a word this time – no excitement like the day before when both Pyke and Josh made it down the stairs with three or four boxes of books at a time.
“You’re mean Mom! Josh’s knees hurt and Pyke has a sprained ankle!” War wounds from moving, yes I knew those all too well. It was hard to explain the grief I felt at having to move out of our apartment, even if it wasn’t the best apartment in the world. There’s something disconcerting about being forced to move out of one’s homes, for whatever reason. Sometimes I felt sorry for myself – if it was just me and I didn’t have to live with a teenager who had so many friends, I’d probably get to stay here as long as I wanted to, or not, whatever worked.
But, then again, I wouldn’t have it any other way…we were moving to a house in San Jose which also had its issues. The commute to work was only around 20 minutes, which isn’t too bad. And, well, it is what it is…