Moving Away Narrative

It’s amazing how time flies, it only feels like I closed the van door to the vet’s office a few minutes ago but, here we are, pulling up to Grandma’s house almost an hour and a half away from Manchester. There’s the statue of Mary, still half hidden in the overgrown garden, the narrow street, Longfellow School’s playground. It’s a nice day, Sirus would love it, he would jump out of the van and run to play with Augie... I would join in and Augie would come over and give me his doggy version of a hug. I climb out of the van and look around, Augie wasn’t outside today, probably for the better; I don’t think anyone felt like chasing him to Uncle Eric’s again if he slipped past us at the gate. The gate squeaked as I open it for Dad so that he doesn’t have to juggle his burden to open the gate himself, and the rest of my sisters, mom, and Joshy file in behind him. The yard hadn’t changed much in the ten years since we moved to …show more content…
We’ll be gone in the morning. Gone like the wind. Gone, gone, gone. I don’t want to be gone, why do we have to go? Why did we ever move away? We still need to weed the garden, pick up the dog poop, mow the lawn, babysit Mara and Cooper. The computer or TV breaks if we’re gone too long. Someone cut Joshy’s and my branch off the maple tree in the back when we left. The girls and I fetch shovels from the garage while Joshy pulls up the tall fencing blocking the way behind the garage. I just want to go hide in the basement or curl up in our bedroom upstairs... No, I want to hug Augie. I want to hug Sirus and cry- and I don’t want to go. But want has no meaning in life anymore. We dig out a deep hole next to Jester and stand back to watch Dad and Josh lower the laden tarp into the grave. Everyone says a few words but I’m too busy trying not to cry to listen; we each throw in a handful of dirt then Dad and Josh fill it in the rest of the way. The piece of fencing is replaced and we walk back to the

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