| General Fiction posted February 10, 2021 | Chapters: |
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The move from New Orleans to Chattanooga takes place.
A chapter in the book Remembering Yesterday
Moving Day
by BethShelby
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For new readers, who may not have read my author notes, this is written in a conversational way as I talk to my deceased husband. When I refer to someone just as "you" this means I am addressing my husband, Evan.
It was December of 1987, and the closing date on our house sale was coming up. We had to go back to Metairie to pack. We could only hope Connie would stay out of trouble until we could return. In the last couple of months, we would learn that she had skipped classes several times. Teachers had mailed notes to our post office box about her poor grades, and that her work wasn’t being turned in. These letters we never received, because Connie managed to get there first and intercept them. She had even gotten her report card and changed a couple of D’s to B’s. Most of this we were yet to learn.
We decided to move ourselves, in order to save money. You rented the largest moving van available. You and Don did the heavy lifting, while I went out and got whatever boxes I could from stores and even dumpsters. It was my job to pack linens, dishes, clothes and all the loose items. We all fell in bed exhausted each night. It was a blessing we’d had a recent fire, because that left us with less to deal with. On the closing day, we had our van, our car and the moving van stuffed to capacity. Each of us would drive one of the vehicles to Chattanooga.
Thankfully, the closing went smoothly with no hitches. The young couple was so excited to be buying their first house. While you went to make sure our vehicles were all gassed up, Don and I stood in the hallway, locked in a firm embrace with tears running down our cheeks. We’d spent seventeen years of our life here, and we recognized this as the closing of a very long segment of our lives. You returned from your errand, and we each got into our vehicles and started the 7-hour journey toward our future.
It was the following morning when we closed on the Chattanooga house and were able to move into our new home. I had been too tired to sleep and spent the night tossing and turning and trying to arrange furniture in my mind. I had almost decided that there was no way my furniture would work, and that we had made a mistake by buying such an unusual house. Luckily, my buyer’s remorse was all in my head, and everything fit beautifully. The kids all loved the house and everyone, including Christi and Connie, were delighted to claim their own rooms.
Don and Christi took the two downstairs bedrooms, Connie had a room upstairs with its own bath and you and I had the large master suite. We used the large sectional sofa from our den in Metairie in the great room, and there was plenty of room for our living room sofa and chair in our master bedroom.
It was already the 18th of December. I’d not had time to do any shopping and Christi and Don’s twenty-fifth birthday had been the day before, on the 17th of December. Christi was fine with a present of money. Don accepted it, but he was the one of my children who really counted on the traditional holidays he’d always known. I felt bad that we wouldn’t be able to do things the way we had in the past when I’d had time to make the holidays more memorable. Christmas trees were already on clearance sale in the lot at the bottom of our subdivision. Connie insisted that we have a live tree, so you took her down to the lot and let her pick out a ten foot fir.
The kids decorated it, but there was very little to go under it. Money was again the gift of choice. In the past, I’d always made sure the children had at least three gifts each to unwrap, and also a big stocking filled with surprises. I told them that they needed to consider the house as their main present this year. They had to understand we were doing our best under the circumstances, but I could feel Christmas was a disappointment.
Christi chose Christmas morning as a time to show her displeasure. She awoke crying, because she wanted to see her grandmother. She had been in Mississippi with her grandparents every Christmas day since she'd been alive, and she didn’t want to spend the holiday in Chattanooga. You told her you’d buy her a bus ticket, and she could go, if that’s what she wanted. She took you up on it. She packed a bag and left that morning. She came back the next day. I think she realized that being the only one there wasn’t as wonderful as she had imagined it would. My parents hadn't expected company so they weren't prepared.
A few days later, we got a call from Jane, our real estate lady, and she said it was her family's tradition to go around on New Year's Eve and spend a little time visiting with friends. She asked if it would be okay if they came over. She said she’d like us to meet the rest of her family, and she wanted to meet the rest of ours.
On that night, Don said he couldn’t be home, because he was in a friend's wedding, and he had to go to a rehearsal supper that night. It occurred to me that Jane’s hopes to meet Don, and have him meet her daughter, wasn't going to happen.
When Jane arrived, she was with her husband and her other two children. She said she was disappointed that she was unable to bring her daughter, Kimberly, because she was in her best friend's wedding and had to attend a rehearsal supper that night. We had the same excuse for why she wouldn’t be able to meet our son.
And so it was they met anyway. Don came home saying he’d met a girl who was in his friend’s wedding. She was playing the piano and he went over and sat beside her and started singing along with her. He said they were planning to get together after the wedding and go out. It didn’t take us long to figure out who this girl was. He didn’t remember her last name, but her first name was Kimberly.
Sometimes, there is no logical explanation as to why these things happen. You just have to assume it was meant to be.
For new readers, who may not have read my author notes, this is written in a conversational way as I talk to my deceased husband. When I refer to someone just as "you" this means I am addressing my husband, Evan.
It was December of 1987, and the closing date on our house sale was coming up. We had to go back to Metairie to pack. We could only hope Connie would stay out of trouble until we could return. In the last couple of months, we would learn that she had skipped classes several times. Teachers had mailed notes to our post office box about her poor grades, and that her work wasn’t being turned in. These letters we never received, because Connie managed to get there first and intercept them. She had even gotten her report card and changed a couple of D’s to B’s. Most of this we were yet to learn.
We decided to move ourselves, in order to save money. You rented the largest moving van available. You and Don did the heavy lifting, while I went out and got whatever boxes I could from stores and even dumpsters. It was my job to pack linens, dishes, clothes and all the loose items. We all fell in bed exhausted each night. It was a blessing we’d had a recent fire, because that left us with less to deal with. On the closing day, we had our van, our car and the moving van stuffed to capacity. Each of us would drive one of the vehicles to Chattanooga.
Thankfully, the closing went smoothly with no hitches. The young couple was so excited to be buying their first house. While you went to make sure our vehicles were all gassed up, Don and I stood in the hallway, locked in a firm embrace with tears running down our cheeks. We’d spent seventeen years of our life here, and we recognized this as the closing of a very long segment of our lives. You returned from your errand, and we each got into our vehicles and started the 7-hour journey toward our future.
It was the following morning when we closed on the Chattanooga house and were able to move into our new home. I had been too tired to sleep and spent the night tossing and turning and trying to arrange furniture in my mind. I had almost decided that there was no way my furniture would work, and that we had made a mistake by buying such an unusual house. Luckily, my buyer’s remorse was all in my head, and everything fit beautifully. The kids all loved the house and everyone, including Christi and Connie, were delighted to claim their own rooms.
Don and Christi took the two downstairs bedrooms, Connie had a room upstairs with its own bath and you and I had the large master suite. We used the large sectional sofa from our den in Metairie in the great room, and there was plenty of room for our living room sofa and chair in our master bedroom.
It was already the 18th of December. I’d not had time to do any shopping and Christi and Don’s twenty-fifth birthday had been the day before, on the 17th of December. Christi was fine with a present of money. Don accepted it, but he was the one of my children who really counted on the traditional holidays he’d always known. I felt bad that we wouldn’t be able to do things the way we had in the past when I’d had time to make the holidays more memorable. Christmas trees were already on clearance sale in the lot at the bottom of our subdivision. Connie insisted that we have a live tree, so you took her down to the lot and let her pick out a ten foot fir.
The kids decorated it, but there was very little to go under it. Money was again the gift of choice. In the past, I’d always made sure the children had at least three gifts each to unwrap, and also a big stocking filled with surprises. I told them that they needed to consider the house as their main present this year. They had to understand we were doing our best under the circumstances, but I could feel Christmas was a disappointment.
Christi chose Christmas morning as a time to show her displeasure. She awoke crying, because she wanted to see her grandmother. She had been in Mississippi with her grandparents every Christmas day since she'd been alive, and she didn’t want to spend the holiday in Chattanooga. You told her you’d buy her a bus ticket, and she could go, if that’s what she wanted. She took you up on it. She packed a bag and left that morning. She came back the next day. I think she realized that being the only one there wasn’t as wonderful as she had imagined it would. My parents hadn't expected company so they weren't prepared.
A few days later, we got a call from Jane, our real estate lady, and she said it was her family's tradition to go around on New Year's Eve and spend a little time visiting with friends. She asked if it would be okay if they came over. She said she’d like us to meet the rest of her family, and she wanted to meet the rest of ours.
On that night, Don said he couldn’t be home, because he was in a friend's wedding, and he had to go to a rehearsal supper that night. It occurred to me that Jane’s hopes to meet Don, and have him meet her daughter, wasn't going to happen.
When Jane arrived, she was with her husband and her other two children. She said she was disappointed that she was unable to bring her daughter, Kimberly, because she was in her best friend's wedding and had to attend a rehearsal supper that night. We had the same excuse for why she wouldn’t be able to meet our son.
And so it was they met anyway. Don came home saying he’d met a girl who was in his friend’s wedding. She was playing the piano and he went over and sat beside her and started singing along with her. He said they were planning to get together after the wedding and go out. It didn’t take us long to figure out who this girl was. He didn’t remember her last name, but her first name was Kimberly.
Sometimes, there is no logical explanation as to why these things happen. You just have to assume it was meant to be.
It was December of 1987, and the closing date on our house sale was coming up. We had to go back to Metairie to pack. We could only hope Connie would stay out of trouble until we could return. In the last couple of months, we would learn that she had skipped classes several times. Teachers had mailed notes to our post office box about her poor grades, and that her work wasn’t being turned in. These letters we never received, because Connie managed to get there first and intercept them. She had even gotten her report card and changed a couple of D’s to B’s. Most of this we were yet to learn.
We decided to move ourselves, in order to save money. You rented the largest moving van available. You and Don did the heavy lifting, while I went out and got whatever boxes I could from stores and even dumpsters. It was my job to pack linens, dishes, clothes and all the loose items. We all fell in bed exhausted each night. It was a blessing we’d had a recent fire, because that left us with less to deal with. On the closing day, we had our van, our car and the moving van stuffed to capacity. Each of us would drive one of the vehicles to Chattanooga.
Thankfully, the closing went smoothly with no hitches. The young couple was so excited to be buying their first house. While you went to make sure our vehicles were all gassed up, Don and I stood in the hallway, locked in a firm embrace with tears running down our cheeks. We’d spent seventeen years of our life here, and we recognized this as the closing of a very long segment of our lives. You returned from your errand, and we each got into our vehicles and started the 7-hour journey toward our future.
It was the following morning when we closed on the Chattanooga house and were able to move into our new home. I had been too tired to sleep and spent the night tossing and turning and trying to arrange furniture in my mind. I had almost decided that there was no way my furniture would work, and that we had made a mistake by buying such an unusual house. Luckily, my buyer’s remorse was all in my head, and everything fit beautifully. The kids all loved the house and everyone, including Christi and Connie, were delighted to claim their own rooms.
Don and Christi took the two downstairs bedrooms, Connie had a room upstairs with its own bath and you and I had the large master suite. We used the large sectional sofa from our den in Metairie in the great room, and there was plenty of room for our living room sofa and chair in our master bedroom.
It was already the 18th of December. I’d not had time to do any shopping and Christi and Don’s twenty-fifth birthday had been the day before, on the 17th of December. Christi was fine with a present of money. Don accepted it, but he was the one of my children who really counted on the traditional holidays he’d always known. I felt bad that we wouldn’t be able to do things the way we had in the past when I’d had time to make the holidays more memorable. Christmas trees were already on clearance sale in the lot at the bottom of our subdivision. Connie insisted that we have a live tree, so you took her down to the lot and let her pick out a ten foot fir.
The kids decorated it, but there was very little to go under it. Money was again the gift of choice. In the past, I’d always made sure the children had at least three gifts each to unwrap, and also a big stocking filled with surprises. I told them that they needed to consider the house as their main present this year. They had to understand we were doing our best under the circumstances, but I could feel Christmas was a disappointment.
Christi chose Christmas morning as a time to show her displeasure. She awoke crying, because she wanted to see her grandmother. She had been in Mississippi with her grandparents every Christmas day since she'd been alive, and she didn’t want to spend the holiday in Chattanooga. You told her you’d buy her a bus ticket, and she could go, if that’s what she wanted. She took you up on it. She packed a bag and left that morning. She came back the next day. I think she realized that being the only one there wasn’t as wonderful as she had imagined it would. My parents hadn't expected company so they weren't prepared.
A few days later, we got a call from Jane, our real estate lady, and she said it was her family's tradition to go around on New Year's Eve and spend a little time visiting with friends. She asked if it would be okay if they came over. She said she’d like us to meet the rest of her family, and she wanted to meet the rest of ours.
On that night, Don said he couldn’t be home, because he was in a friend's wedding, and he had to go to a rehearsal supper that night. It occurred to me that Jane’s hopes to meet Don, and have him meet her daughter, wasn't going to happen.
When Jane arrived, she was with her husband and her other two children. She said she was disappointed that she was unable to bring her daughter, Kimberly, because she was in her best friend's wedding and had to attend a rehearsal supper that night. We had the same excuse for why she wouldn’t be able to meet our son.
And so it was they met anyway. Don came home saying he’d met a girl who was in his friend’s wedding. She was playing the piano and he went over and sat beside her and started singing along with her. He said they were planning to get together after the wedding and go out. It didn’t take us long to figure out who this girl was. He didn’t remember her last name, but her first name was Kimberly.
Sometimes, there is no logical explanation as to why these things happen. You just have to assume it was meant to be.
 Recognized |
I'm continuing to recall memories of life with my deceased husband, Evan, as if I am talking aloud to him. I'm doing this because I want my children to know us as we knew each other and not just as their parents.
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