Clothes? Over here
Books? Right there
Kitchen? Uhhh, yeah there
Tea things? Next to me
Danielle wrote down each section of her things in her 10 foot by 10 foot storage unit. Without the help of the pen in her hands, she’d be completely lost in the endless field of her thoughts. Short form notes were only needed - kit. clo. shu. bk. fig. - to name a few. ‘Misc’ was used if too many differing things were fit into a box. In some boxes, combinations of these words merged to be a bit more precise than others. ‘kit bk’ - kitchen books. ‘bx fig’ - boxed figures. ‘♪ bk’ - music books. Only one box had ‘bath’ written on it.
Danielle wrote down each section of her things in her 10 foot by 10 foot storage unit. Without the help of the pen in her hands, she’d be completely lost in the endless field of her thoughts. Short form notes were only needed - kit. clo. shu. bk. fig. - to name a few. ‘Misc’ was used if too many differing things were fit into a box. In some boxes, combinations of these words merged to be a bit more precise than others. ‘kit bk’ - kitchen books. ‘bx fig’ - boxed figures. ‘♪ bk’ - music books. Only one box had ‘bath’ written on it.
She had neglected this space for so long that she forgot what she had. Boxes stacked on top of plastic, transparent, storage bins surrounded the young woman. Like a Godzilla in the middle of playing her own in-person SimCity - moving one building stack to the opposite side. What’s going to stay, what’s going to be sold, what’s going to be given away. All scrutinized, written down and labeled. Danni was thankful that she left her furniture behind. Imagining herself moving those items around sent a shiver down her muscle-less arms.
A deep breath escaped her parched lips as she scratched the side of her head, trying to keep tidy. Yet it was all in vain. Outside of the unit were several boxes of miscellaneous things meant for the local charity store. Clothes that no longer fit. Cords that would no longer work for her. Shoes she barely touched. Books that she could live without. Yeah, I’ve been negligent, she thought. Paying several hundred a month to harbor her entire life.
She made do without her things in everyday life. She came back for seasonal clothes, switched them around with the help of a check-in luggage bag. But living with family had its own downsides. She missed her figures adorning her shelves to admire the semi-expensive collection. Pulling the books from the shelves for reference for the current project she worked on. Using the specialized kitchen appliances to make meals that she only ever had from a restaurant.
I’ll have that again - it’ll just take some more time
❒
“Take this and rub it on your back, it’ll feel cold but it’ll ease the pain.” A small blue and white cylinder was tossed into Danielle’s hands. For someone who liked to call herself an ‘old hag’, Marlene had a good arm and better aim. It’ll stop her granddaughter look like an older bag by punching her lower back.
“Thanks, Nana”
Whilst watching the young woman contort her arms around to reach the cylinder to her back, Marlene asked, “How much did you have today?”
“Five - three to Salivation and two for Half Price.”
“How much did you get from Half Price?”
“Surprisingly, 95. All because the publishing company no longer exists - so they were worth so much more.”
Marlene was surprised by this news. It was unusual for books to be resold to the establishment for higher than a Venti Latte at Starbucks. But for practically ten of those? Maybe Danni should buy the coffee for their next coffee outing, she thought jokingly. Then thought of other uses for that money. As if following the trains to different stations of thought.
“Tomorrow, do you need the car?” Danielle’s words broke Marlene from her mind mapping trance.
“Yea, I’m going to the dermatologist.”
“Oh, right. What time?”
“Noon”
Danni, too, needed the shared vehicle - so she concocted a plan for both of them. She’d drive them to the unit - leaving the car to her grandmother for as long as she’d need. Only to then come back for Danni once she was done and ready to come home. Maybe grabbing groceries together afterwards for a nice time together.
Marlene agreed.
❒
A turn of the key. The lock opening in half circle motions. Shutter doors lifted. Mental anarchy inside sprouting to say hello with a smug smirk.
God, I hope I can get this done today. This is fucking torture.
God, I hope I can get this done today. This is fucking torture.
The last row of boxes sprawled on the floor threatened her with a rough time. They were what she least wanted to deal with. They were on the floor for how heavy they were, and worst yet - she couldn’t remember what the hell she put in there. She searched her memory for when she first came here and came up with nothing. She’d have to explore the mystery by opening what was within. Thankfully, from the hard work of previous days, she didn’t have to worry about lifting another box. Where are those scissors?
A long slice up the middle of the furthest cardboard box that kissed on the four corners, unveiled a mess of papers. Her lips mouthed bitter words. On the surface, she saw notebooks and misplaced papers. She turned her head around to find the pleather stool she’d sit in while sifting through. But it was too far away - so she settled for one of the other boxes on her to-do list. She was able to rest her back against the wall, but it would do little good in the long run. She’d been bent over these boxes for long periods of time, like one of those novelty bird bobbing toys.
The notebooks in Box One were empty, just extra compositions she bought in bulk back in her university days. Her favorite method of note-taking was to be handwritten in these books, with some arrows pointing elsewhere. Learning mind mapping from her shiny-squirrel grandmother did have its perks. Other composition notebooks were found with various words written in them; One full of number and variable equations; One full of logographic writings in a systematic mathematical setting; Another of logographic writings that translated into her mother-tongue with a tinge of her father-tongue; One written far back in her early days with poor penmanship that barely improved to her current self (her mother swears she should’ve been a doctor with that handwriting).
This last notebook was a draft of a story she contemplated revitalizing with a name attached to her memory - Hannah. The one who read each short chapter, who looked forward to each new section. Who’d talk to her about her love for some characters, and hatred for others. Her first fan, Danielle supposed. A good close friend since they were girls who dared to dream to become adults with a will to achieve. Life knew how to drift people apart to that point of forgetting said friend’s surname. Facebook would have to rectify that for her, or Instagram if Facebook was a bust.
Moving on to Box Two were only full of old textbooks she bought for her language course. She remembered it was easier, and cheaper, to purchase them than renting them for each semester she needed them. For a total of three textbooks. The first one was found, with ease, on Ebay for half of the original price. Could I write some of these characters again? The word for ‘I’ could be done with ease, as well as ‘What’ and ‘Food’. Although, more complicated symbols for ‘Love’, ‘School’, and ‘Library’ were well forgotten. Yet if she saw them on a sign she’d recognize it right away.
Underneath were antiquity books of older Greek legends she purchased for school as well. Holding onto them for longer periods of time to give them more of her time to read in the future. The interest never left her.
Box Three, the largest of them all, gave her more pause than the previous ones. In it, a white binder faced her with its unmarked label. She recognized it right away. How could she not? Danni remembered rushing to finish it at her Nana’s since only she had the working printer. She pulled it out of its place, taking notice of the treasures hidden underneath, but decided to leave it for now.
The Front and Back held pictures and drawings drawn by her, yet it the contents inside that mattered the most. A Table of Contents and a score sheet were the first two pages of the binder. Several pages of Top 10s followed - books, movies, people, things in general. The specifics have changed but not the general. Danielle still held a lot of them close to her heart. At the end were several pages of handwritten letters but one typed letter.
The typed letter was from a much younger version of herself. A girl half her current age with twice her current enthusiasm. This child asked so many questions, curious about the state of her life. So many questions that she regretted to answer with ‘no’ again and again. At least the mental torture was short - she had little skill in writing letters.
The handwriting of one of the letters she knew to be her mother’s. Her mother wrote what she would never say. The hand knew how to express what the mouth could not. Artists tended to be that way, Danni thought. And her mother was certainly that. The hope this mother transcribed to her future daughter - full of possibilities and dreams - truly touched the fearful daughter that lost much hope over the years.
Another letter piled on to this hope, the one from her dad. His angular, specific writing in capital letters in varying size made her smile more. He wrote about how he had changed her life, once afraid of being a dad. That he hopes he raises her to be stronger and better than he ever was. His own hope put into the daughter he loves so much, and the pride he feels for her. Pride she hoped he still feels about her.
The final letter came from her ‘old hag’ grandmother, in conjunction with her husband, Danielle’s grandfather. The woman who helped her mother to raise Danielle, while her mother worked several jobs while still in school. This letter held their hope for her as well, remembering the day she was born. It was much shorter than the others, but still full of love in beautifully written cursive.
Danni couldn’t get rid of her smile. She opened the binder removed the unnecessary pages of her past opinions. All but the letters. The pages removed were tossed into a bin to recycle later, the binder set aside.
Further in Box Three, Danni found the only scrapbook she ever owned. A gift from her mother on her 18th birthday. A thick blue book with darker blue diagonal lines. Danni turned the to the first page, adorned with pictures of a big cheeked, pink baby. Some in the arms of a young mom, some in the arms of a young father. But all her. The next pages - a small toddler smiling with watermelon and pigtails, family all around and laughter. The next and the next chronicling the life of the baby, up to her 18th birthday.
Waves of emotions continually struck through until a sob was heard. Echoing down the hallway of the indoor unit. Remembering in a month’s time, all her life - stuck in this room - prepared to travel somewhere far away. A life in pause, a life waiting to explore. But such a decision didn’t come without sacrifices. No more simple days with her Nana, brunches and coffee dates alike; No more weekly visits to her parents; No more of Mom’s cooking. No more C-flick movies with Dad. Daily life changed forever. A realization that griped her with guilt for going so far away.
But it wasn’t going to deter her. That’s not what her family wants for her. They only want the best for her to unlock all possibilities and potential in her life.
❒
First day in the new home. Tired from the long flights but also struggled to keep the tears within. Her things were to arrive at a much later date. Fine, Danni expected that. Enough clothes and pastimes were packed for the time being.
While sifting through her backpack for a charger - she found a blue envelope unknown to her. Slyly thrown in by her mother. The handwriting at the front - of Danielle’s childhood nicknames of various kinds - gave her anonymity away. Inside, a new letter of words her mother could never say:
I can’t say I wish you weren’t going, but I don’t. I am very excited for you and all the things you will get to experience. I can say that I wish it were closer to me. I will miss you so much but not in the everyday dread like when you were younger and all I did was worry. It will be in those moments when I think “Oh Danni and I should go do that” or “oh I should see if she wants to go here”. So you better be ready when you come to visit. I will have a LIST of things to do together. I am very proud of you and all the things you have done. You are a stronger woman than you give yourself credit for! Remember that! You are my daughter and can do anything you set your mind to… STUBBORN CHILD!!!
I remember when you were a kid and I told you at McDonalds my job isn’t to do things for you but to teach you to do things for yourself. I hope we have given you the tools to do that. Because I KNOW YOU CAN. Don’t doubt yourself.
You can and will do this. I have faith in you… and I’m always here to help. ALWAYS. I love you with all my heart and am so very proud of you which I don’t tell you enough. You got this and will make it your bitch. Answer your phone to me. Respond to texts and I won’t have to hurt you :) Love you from the first day to this day and all going forward.
- Mom
The tears she fought hours of fighting came naturally like spring lake down the valley. With each word she heard her mother’s voice in the cadence she naturally knew. The way she spoke her sarcastic remarks; the pauses she knew her mother would have. Yet she couldn’t see her mother’s tears in her mind’s eye. Her toughest critic was always her strongest supporter. Always pushing Danielle to think better, to be better.
It’s always hard to leave family behind. But that’s what happens when a girl finally grows her wings and becomes a woman.