The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

31
The day of the move is here before I know it, a week of packing gone in the blink of an eye. I keep
wanting to talk to my dad, to ask him about what Nina said, to tell him, but I can never find the right
time.
I wanted to do it in our old house, since it feels sacred in a way, but… I’m scared, especially aer
what happened with Matt. Out of everyone, I really don’t know what my dad’s reaction will be.
Johnny comes over to help us the day of the move, and I spy Winston’s furry head sticking out the
passenger-side window, but Blake is nowhere to be found. When Johnny opens the car door, Winston
comes running over to where I’m sitting on the porch, tail wagging.
At least someone is happy to see me.
I scratch behind his floppy ears, giving him a sad smile. “She hates me, huh, bud?” I whisper.
He whines and rests his chin on my knee, his big brown eyes drooping even more than they usually
do as he looks at me.
We spend most of the day luing furniture out to the moving truck my dad rented, a few of his
coworkers at Smith & Tyler helping us out too. Gradually, right before my eyes, the house becomes
empty and echo-y. Even though, maybe, in a lot of ways, it’s been empty since she le us. Tears fill my
eyes as I think of how she used to fill this space, with her voice, and her laughter, and her warmth.
But as I go through each room, I still find things. e marks on the carpet where something used to
be, tiny holes in the wall where pictures were hung, the lines on the doorframe where we’d measure my
height every year.
e small scorch mark revealed from liing up the carpet in the living room, a reminder of the
Christmas a decade ago with Blake.
All signs we were here. All of us.
Soon my dad and I are standing in the entryway, our only claim to this house the memories we
made in it.
He puts his arm around my shoulder, letting out a long exhale. “I’m gonna miss this place,” he says.
I nod, taking in the steps and the living room and the worn wood floors for the last time. Taking in
Mom’s house for the last time, before, together, we close and lock the door.
My fingers drag along the flowers of the garden as we make our way down the walk. I stop to