Between Neighbors

If there was one thing I hated, it was packing.  Being an army brat, it was all my sister Rhonda and I ever seemed to do.  As soon as I would get comfortable with one living space, my dad would be stationed someplace else, and me, my mom, and Rhonda would be packing again.  Sometimes it seemed like we were packing before we could get completely unpacked.  I can remember being so confused that sometimes I would be packing things up, when I should be unpacking them. Rhonda was a little too young to really understand, but not me. I hated it.  It was difficult to build and maintain any worthwhile friendships because before you knew it, we’d be moving again.  And don’t even think about a boyfriend!  That’s probably the reason I have so much trouble keeping a man now!  Every time I even got to the point where I could show a guy some interest, I ended up packing.  For as many bad memories packing brings me, I can truly say that this next move is one of great anticipation.  I’ve been offered a new job as a paralegal in Houston, and I can hardly wait.  Well, it’s not really new, but the attorney I currently work for is relocating and I’m going with.  How exciting, right?  This means a whole new environment for me.  New law firm, new clients, new neighbors, new everything! Once I hit Houston, I want to start everything off fresh, so for the last few nights, I’ve been going through my things and trying to determine what goes and what stays.  So far the same things that were going are going, and the same things I had planned to leave behind are going to be left behind.  The one friend I did manage to make and keep, Monique, says I’m too clingy.  Mo is just the opposite.  If she feels that something has been around too long and isn’t serving any purpose, she boots it, cut and dry. We’ve been friends since about the seventh grade and she’s been that way for as long as I can remember.  Mo’s mother was in the army.  I met her when we were stationed in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.  We would call and write each other a lot.  Then five years later when we were eighteen, we both got apartments here in Virginia.  I lived alone, while Mo lived with her then boyfriend, David.  After about two years they both decided he should move out, only thing is, Mo found out she was pregnant.  She thought hard about having an abortion since neither she nor David could stand could stand each other anymore, but decided against it.  And now my little godson, Michael, will be eleven years old in a few months.  I can hardly believe it.  He’s one of the things I’m going to miss most about Virginia.  He and Monique.  Just as I began to feel all teary-eyed, my cell phone rang.  I rummaged through the marked brown boxes and newspapers until I found it buried in a box with “KITCHEN” written across it in permanent black marker.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Almost done?”  the voice inquired.

“Hey, Mo.”  I called.

“Well,” I started as I glared around the room at my mess.

“How much more you got to do?”

“Not that much.  I’m just going through deciding what to keep and boot.  Where’s Michael?”