but after they chewed my head off for not re-enrolling I asked Brett if he would move out with me. He had a good job at a car dealership; I had a job, too. We didn't need our parents to pay our bills. We made the plan and moved out. Two rebels on the loose, sort of.
My parents were at a loss when we told them, which we waited to do until after we found a place we thought we could afford. My heart broke for my mom. She had to deal with her husband leaving for long periods of time but at least she always had us, especially me, her feminine companion through it all. One by one we were leaving. I felt like I was abandoning her; we all were, for our own lives. All she would have left was Travis and Dad's promise that this was his last term and then they could retire back to Ohio. None of us meant to abandon her and she knew it but it didn't help the hurt.
Mom made us promise to come to dinner every Sunday the way she made Theo and Kennedy come. I loved her more that day than ever before. I saw how hard it was for her to let her babies go. If she hadn't already seen Thomas and Theo go, or if Dad was anything less than the amazing guy he was, I don't think she would have handled it that well, but the boys did leave and my dad was the best kind of husband and she couldn't keep us young forever. All she could do was demand Sunday dinners and there was something comforting in knowing we could always go home, even if it was only for dinner, until Dad retired.
This time when we packed up, it was just Brett and me. When the older boys left, neither needed much but Brett and I had an apartment to fill. Dad, Mom, Travis, Theo and Kennedy helped us move on Sunday after an early dinner. The best part was that Mom and Dad paid our deposit. I didn't see that coming but after we put down the deposit and first and last month's rent they gave us each cash that equaled half of the deposit. They went over a budget with us and filled up the fridge and pantry with our favorite foods, which Trav helped himself to as they all moved us in.
Then they said goodbye and Brett and I were on our own for the first time in our lives. It was exhilarating. The first night all by ourselves in our own apartment is one of the best memories on my good shelf. We did like Mom made us do when we were kids—we sucked in the memory for all time and eternity. Both of us laid on our backs on the living room floor and memorized the way the room looked: the sounds inside and outside, water heater warming in the utility closet next to our tiny bathroom, people running up the stairs, making reverberations that echoed and vibrated our little home, the smells: carpet cleaner and fresh paint, “and your stinky feet,” I said as we inhaled, making the memory stick. To this day the smell of fresh paint sends me back to that little apartment.
Our apartment was on the third floor of a complex in the middle of the city. It worked perfectly for both of us because it was close to everything. It was tiny. The whole thing couldn't have been more than seven hundred square feet and that's a generous guess. We didn’t have to fight over who got the master bedroom because neither had a bathroom, but I demanded the one that was slightly bigger. We set up our living room with surround sound so the games would play loud and clear. Neither of us were what I'd call master electricians but we were both determined to figure it out and hot-headed enough to think our way was right. Between the fighting, switching of wires, and stringing of cords all around the little room, it took like five hours one Tuesday before we finally figured it out. But we got it.
The thing that took me the most time to get used to was the absence of jet noise. The city was noisy in its own way but it felt like something was missing. It took me a week to realize what it was. My whole life, no matter where we lived, had always been on base, always gates to wait to open, security to clear us, and always jets and planes
My parents were at a loss when we told them, which we waited to do until after we found a place we thought we could afford. My heart broke for my mom. She had to deal with her husband leaving for long periods of time but at least she always had us, especially me, her feminine companion through it all. One by one we were leaving. I felt like I was abandoning her; we all were, for our own lives. All she would have left was Travis and Dad's promise that this was his last term and then they could retire back to Ohio. None of us meant to abandon her and she knew it but it didn't help the hurt.
Mom made us promise to come to dinner every Sunday the way she made Theo and Kennedy come. I loved her more that day than ever before. I saw how hard it was for her to let her babies go. If she hadn't already seen Thomas and Theo go, or if Dad was anything less than the amazing guy he was, I don't think she would have handled it that well, but the boys did leave and my dad was the best kind of husband and she couldn't keep us young forever. All she could do was demand Sunday dinners and there was something comforting in knowing we could always go home, even if it was only for dinner, until Dad retired.
This time when we packed up, it was just Brett and me. When the older boys left, neither needed much but Brett and I had an apartment to fill. Dad, Mom, Travis, Theo and Kennedy helped us move on Sunday after an early dinner. The best part was that Mom and Dad paid our deposit. I didn't see that coming but after we put down the deposit and first and last month's rent they gave us each cash that equaled half of the deposit. They went over a budget with us and filled up the fridge and pantry with our favorite foods, which Trav helped himself to as they all moved us in.
Then they said goodbye and Brett and I were on our own for the first time in our lives. It was exhilarating. The first night all by ourselves in our own apartment is one of the best memories on my good shelf. We did like Mom made us do when we were kids—we sucked in the memory for all time and eternity. Both of us laid on our backs on the living room floor and memorized the way the room looked: the sounds inside and outside, water heater warming in the utility closet next to our tiny bathroom, people running up the stairs, making reverberations that echoed and vibrated our little home, the smells: carpet cleaner and fresh paint, “and your stinky feet,” I said as we inhaled, making the memory stick. To this day the smell of fresh paint sends me back to that little apartment.
Our apartment was on the third floor of a complex in the middle of the city. It worked perfectly for both of us because it was close to everything. It was tiny. The whole thing couldn't have been more than seven hundred square feet and that's a generous guess. We didn’t have to fight over who got the master bedroom because neither had a bathroom, but I demanded the one that was slightly bigger. We set up our living room with surround sound so the games would play loud and clear. Neither of us were what I'd call master electricians but we were both determined to figure it out and hot-headed enough to think our way was right. Between the fighting, switching of wires, and stringing of cords all around the little room, it took like five hours one Tuesday before we finally figured it out. But we got it.
The thing that took me the most time to get used to was the absence of jet noise. The city was noisy in its own way but it felt like something was missing. It took me a week to realize what it was. My whole life, no matter where we lived, had always been on base, always gates to wait to open, security to clear us, and always jets and planes
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