Cub Run Road
I left my childhood (and adulthood) home for the last time tonight. I’ve been there packing with my dad for the last five days. I was sweaty. No fanfare. I pulled out of the driveway and made it about 15 seconds before crying my eyes out.
The new people won’t know about birthday party pony rides in the backyard or my mud pit.
Just before leaving the neighborhood, my phone rang. Dad. The caller ID picture is my parents hugging on the beach in their new town.
“You’ve got to turn around. Steff forgot all her stuff.”
I put my sunglasses on even though it’s 8:30, turn around, and pull in the driveway. My dad meets me with my sister’s clothes in hand.
“I’m ready for a beer,” my dad says. “We should have had a beer…want to have a beer?”
We sat on the back porch with our beers until the yard lanterns turned on. I asked him to not forget to pack those.
