Prelude to city life/The other life part 4

My mom had just told us to buckle our seat belts. I’ve had a belt before, but a seatbelt, never. We are inside what my father told me was a minivan, which only made me wonder how big an actual van is!

The minivan has seven seats, which is perfect since we are a family of seven. Up front is a driver seat and a passenger’s seat with something called a glovebox. Behind that was two seats facing the back of the minivan, were Larch and Locust sat. Then with table in the middle, there was Sugar Maple to the far right of me, then in between us was Salix’s carseet, then me.

The tight space in the back was surprisingly fine for our luggage since my family didn’t own much. As much of us as there may be, my parents have lived in the country for seventeen years. Most everything we owned they made, like our toys, food, and furniture.

The only toys we had were ones made by mom, like the stuffed horse and the wooden chicken silhouette. When Locust and I were little, we begged mom to make us little girl dolls, and after lots of begging and waiting, she finally sewed us some, with yarn for hair and thin fabrics for clothing. She even made little jackets and skirts we could put on them. We used to put them in little tote bags, and pretend they were taxi drivers! Like the ones we only heard about in books.

But those days were long gone, and most of the bigger totes mom has, are being used as storage for all of our clothes mom had to squeeze in the back of the minivan. Now, for the first time in my life, I was going to see the city. Ever since world war 3, my parents have lived out in the country. Now they would return, with us. And hopefully, I would actually see a taxi.

That is, if the war didn’t change everything.

“Alright, let's roll out!” dad yells.

I try hard not to roll my eyes. Now I know why people cringe in books.

As soon as he puts the key in the ignition and turns it, the car makes a loud growl.

Before you judge our reactions, picture this. You were born on a farm. Your mom and dad are WW lll refugees, so they brang little else the bare essentials which excludes a TV, action figures, Christmas trees, relative photos, etcetera, etcetera. (Hey, it was either that or get drafted into war while trying not to get blown to bits by enemy bombers in your hometown.)

Out in the country, There isn’t much Noise! It’s very quiet around here and you get used to animal noises.

You’ve never known a world with a car in it before! So the car-start up noise is the equivalent of you hearing thunder boom so loud it shakes the ground, at night, when your about to get to sleep!

As soon as the engine starts, tumult erupts from the back of the car.

Me and Larch jumped while Locust gasped. Sugar Maple screamed, and Salix started to cry. Even Glacier, our cat, who until then had been crawling around meowing for food, jumped two feet in the air and hissed at the front of the car, then scrambled to the right corner of the car near me.

Mom unbuckles her seatbelt and runs over to Salix and tells him motherly comforts like ‘it’s okay, baby’ and ‘no need to cry’.

Then mom turns to all of us. “Get a grip. You all are making Salix cry with all that ‘scary’ nonsense.”

When mom walks back to her seat, I mutter, “yeah, we’re the ones scaring Salix. Not the big scary minivan that weighs a million pounds.”

Sugar Maple hears this and laughs. My mom on the other hand says “what’s that Sycamora?”

“Nothing.” I say in quick reply. No use getting in trouble now. who knows what punishment mom will give me in the city. She might feed me to a dragon.

After this, we actually start moving.

“It’s been a while since I’ve driven a car,” dad says.

Larch tries to turn through his seat to see our father behind him. “You’ve driven one of these before?”

“Yeah! Growing up I was nowhere near as isolated as you.” Dad answered. “That being said, I never driven a minivan before, and I doubt my licence is still good. Actually, where is my license?” dad asks, and mom rolls her eyes to complete her signature ‘here we go’ look.

We pick up the pace, and I’ve never known something so fast. At first we drove slow, like at walking speed. Then running speed. Then, we go faster than I can run. Faster than Larch can run. And now the house and sheep are gone. I turn to see Sugar Maple looking past me, trying to see the last of the sheep and the chicken and pigs and horses she’s known since she was born. I just know she’ll miss them, but I’m sure they’ll be animals in the city. Right?

Bushes go by like little blurs. For fun, I train my eyes to look at one bush and let my head move to see it clearly as it passes by. It takes a bit longer for trees to go by, so there's no fun to watching them.

Glacier weaves around my legs, so I pick him up so he can be pet. I look out the window. I can hear the wind as the car breaks through it, and I can definitely hear Salix’s crying as he cries next to me.

Mom says the car just freaks him out, but I’m considering throwing him out of the car if he cries much longer. NOT REALLY, I’m just basically saying that his cries are driving me crazy. His whimpering finally dies down after a while.

Unfortunately, that’s when dad and Locust started to talk it up. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love talking. So much so, I’d talk until my throat gets horse. But they were talking about the most boring things.

We had lived in a cottage/cabin that was close to the blue ridge mountains, so eventually, we passed them while on Blue Ridge parkway.

I love the mountains, they immediately changed to the biggest things I knew existed. These mountains were absolutely COVERED in trees, so much so that that’s kinda all you see. But it’s so beautiful it’s almost magical.

But dad and Locust had to ruin the magic with their tree knowledge. (dad taught us about trees in school, and the only one of us who actually paid attention was Locust.)

“Do you see those trees with the big pointy leaves?” Dad said excitedly.

Locust, who was sitting behind mom but her chair was facing me. She immediately put down her book and turned to the window she was next to.

“Aw... no, I must have missed it! What tree was it!?” Locust answered, her eyes still fixed on all the trees we passed by.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty more to come.” Dad answered kindly. “You’ll know it when you see it. Dark green leaves, grows flowers in late spring, turns orange and yellow in the fall…”

“Ooooooohhhhhh” Locust said, then turned to her right! “I see another one! A Sugar Maple tree!” Locust shouted.

“Sugar Maple, that’s your tree, Acer saccharum.” Locust said speaking tree language to our little sister.

“Can’t you just speak english?” I asked Locust, clearly annoyed. She and dad took the fun out of looking at the Sugar Maple, which was one of the most beautiful trees on the planet. Equally pretty as my sister who was named after it.

“She is speaking english.” answered dad. “Also, I just spotted a Platanus occidentalis, Sycamora,” dad said smirking.

I didn’t get it, so I looked at Locust blankly, for I knew she would translate the tree language only she and dad spoke.

Apparently she was in on the joke. “You know, Exfoliates, lives up to be around 200 years old…? A plain-tree? Your tree?”

Larch, who was biting his nails, mumbled, “A sycamore tree.” Through his closed teeth.

“Oh. finally.” I said. The tree I was named after was fairly pretty, with is camouflage-like bark and little brown spiky sycamore balls, but they could have just told me it was that tree they were talking about instead of going full-on botanist on me.

Then soon, I saw something pink and gray in the road. It looked like trash, but with a tail.

“What’s that.” I asked anyone who would know. I turned to Sugar Maple, but she was glaring at it just as I was.

Mom glanced up from her phone. “Roadkill.” she said casually.

It was sad to see, as its eyes were squeezed shut and its whole body was stretched out. Sugar maple cried. She always cried when a chicken or sheep died back on the farm, but I thought it because she knew each and every one of our farm animals by name. I guess animals just got to her like that.

“Sorry Sugar, but that’s common, especially after the war. You’re gonna have to get used to that.” Mom said, not even looking up from her phone.

Running over rodents must be common enough if they gave it a name, roadkill. How sad. We never ran over possums back at the house. Probably because we never had a car to do so in the first place. But still!

I was so bored, I was just about to ask Locust if she’d lend me one of those books when I saw the biggest thing in my life. Not as wide or tall as a mountain, but you’d get what I mean after you saw miles upon miles of wilderness and then a huge skyscraper just pops out of the air.

It was surrounded by a bunch of other buildings similar in size.

I involuntarily gasped. My siblings did the same.

We were approaching it.

The cluster of buildings and cars and sights and sounds that people call a city. I couldn’t believe it.

I have to be dreaming, I thought. But my father had warned me about the culture shock. Take it all in, with no expectations. He’d said. Could be how I remember it. Could not be. Just take it in.

And so, determined not to get too shocked, that’s what I started to do.

I saw other cars, some smaller than our manivan. Others made for two people. One woman had a pick-up truck like the man who gave us our minivan, the back of her car a rectangular container.

There were people. Some talked, laughed even, while walking on cement squares that lined against buildings, like a mini road made for humans.

The buildings are equally as unique as the people. Some looked a million stories high while others I could count had only three, five, or even one story. Then some windows were round while others had corners, and then some buildings were painted a creamy pastel color whereas some flaunted all glass.

We went down a street of painted buildings that were fairly tall. Some even had stores at the bottom. One was even twelve stories of all clothing, as it said Ellodie’s fashion store.

“The women who owns that store owns a big closet.” I began to make up a story. “It’s like, two stories of walk in closets for whoever owns that store, since they love fashion and all.”

Sugar Maple and baby Salix laughed while Locust and Larch called me a liar. What can I say? Stories are my specialty.

Then dad started to drive slower. He stoped all together at a wide building that was round with lots of windows.

“This,” dad stated seriously, “is our new home. Get ready to haul our bags up some thirteen stories to our place.”

Needless to say we all groaned. Dad himself sighed. Baby Salix joined us, trying out a huff in his voice.

At least he picked our mood up.

TO BE CONTINUED