As the work that brought us to the rolling hills of North Carolina comes to an end, the decision was made to "go where the work takes you". With this decision, came another one. One a bit more difficult, renting the house back home. With this reality staring me in the face, I knew another long road trip was resting on the horizon of my life.
I left, with Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier in tow, in the early morning hours. The wispy outer remnants of Hurricane Matthew provided little comfort as it cast a heavy mist from Raleigh to the western edge of the state. It was five hours later, at about 7:30 in the morning and across the Smokey Mountains, before the sky gave the slightest hint that daylight was somewhere up ahead.
We drove straight through, again, something I said I would never do, again. Well, Runtly did not actually do any driving, but when we neared the border between Kentucky and Illinois, he thought he was brave enough to sit in the front seat, instead of his small crate. We had made one last stop for fuel and a pit stop and when we got back to the car, the front passenger seat was his choice. We discussed this idea, with me telling him I did not think it would work, but his face told a different story. We made it about one mile down the interstate when he began to shake and shiver. I glanced in the rear view mirror and calculated I had just enough time to do a "fire drill" before the approaching traffic caught up with us. I pulled to the side, grabbed the Runt, jumped out, opened the back door and stuffed him in his box.....slammed the door, jumped back into the driver's seat and away we went. At least it was some good exercise to loosen up the joints, that had become achy and stiff, from lack of movement.
Pulling into our home town, I saw the new construction for a new business coming in. It made me sad because I knew it had a very high rate of success at putting another business out of business. I turned the corner and made my way up the street that led to the house.
I had eight days to complete my mission. I spent the first two walking from one room to the next, wondering where to start and I exited each room with a heavy sigh.
By the third day, the kids showed up and the adrenaline kicked in. We went through years of items that had absolutely no real use or value. Some I kept, some I sold and most were donated. We rolled with fits of laughter when the top popped off the box of old photos and pictures of my 'big hair' era skidded across the floor.
Eight days turned into ten and the time had come to head back east. Even though we had spent the last few days saying goodbye, it was time for the real deal. There were many tears and hugs that I did not want to end, then I sent them on their way. There was one last thing to do before I left, and I needed to do it alone. I watched as they loaded into their vehicles and drove away, knowing all of our tears were still falling.
I walked back into the house. It was so empty that my footsteps echoed against the bare walls. It was just a last minute check, to make sure I had left nothing behind. I already knew I had not, but I just needed to walk, one more time, through the rooms that had been my constant for 58 years. Then I picked up a small white box, walked out and locked the back door.
Inside the box were the ashes of a beloved pet. Pussycat. She had roamed the back yard for nearly seventeen years. It was her kingdom. Taking out the plastic bag, I let her ashes fall into all the places she had claimed as her own. Through the garden, under the hostas, where she spent many a sunny day, around the garden pond and down the long hedge, whose many birds gave her a chance to hone her feline skills.
It was a long good bye.
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