Moving, Part II

My mom was never going to marry a sailor or a pastor. She had moved around all her life, and wanted a nice, steady life from now on.

Then she met Dad.

My dad is a pastor. His first church was in a tiny (literally - there were about 14 people living in the town, and half the district had the same last name) town in the rural Midwest. Us kids (i have two younger brothers) loved it. We lived right across the church and would run barefoot over the gravel parking lot, or in the huge puddles which would fill the plain behind our garage. We had several sets of "grandparents" who loved to treat us, and so we ran wild (well, as wild as PK's ever get ;) - climbing trees, having toad circuses, feeding chickens, building huge snowforts, and sneaking into the abandonded house across the way.

One day my dad got a postcard from the Navy. They were recruiting for chaplains.

The moral of that story is: Never say never.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I was in the second grade when we moved.

I remember standing in the kitchen. Everything was white, and brown - not pristine white, not even all the same shade of white, but the floor and walls and fridge and phone and countertops were all white. Only the cupboards were brown. I was trying to wheedle a snack out of mom, and wondered why she wasn't paying as much heed to me as i felt i deserved.

"Your father wants to join the Navy," she told me, in despairing accents. I wasn't sure how this was supposed to make me any less hungry.

Later my parents told us we were moving to North Carolina. They probably showed it to us on a map, but i was born without the proper wiring to process information formatted in such a way.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Our laundry room was on the end of the house. It was blue, and grey. There was the blue hamper which our dog used to tip over so he could chew on our underwear (maybe he liked the elastic??) and which we still have (unlike its pink counterpart which was mortally wounded in a struggle with a kerosene heater).

Mom was facing away from me, folding clothes. Her movements are precise than usual, yet hurried.

"Now they say we will be moving to Sicily." I thought that sounded prettier than North Carolina. Almost like sister. I'd always wanted a little sister. I went looking for the dog.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I rather liked moving. Everybody paid us a great deal of attention, and made us all sorts of presents.

My aunt came to help us and cut my hair. I remember her and my mom in the toy room, putting signs on the things for express shipment, and deciding to get rid of our loveseat. It was cream with huge dark red and blue flowers all over it. Dad wasn't there - he had gone to Rhode Island to learn to salute properly. Movers came, and packed up everything. It was great fun, rather like camping.

We had a navy blue minivan which stood out against all the white of the house and the empty parking lot. Mom packed us all in, and the dog.

We drove off in a snow storm.

UPDATE: Moving, Part I (links to all the other parts available in Part I)