It was true; I did tend to have fewer boxes every time I moved. After the 3rd time we moved I just stopped getting real close to people, knowing what would happen soon enough. It seemed that every time I got close to something, or someone, that I move. So I just stopped.

Once we got everything into the van, we began to drive. It was a long driver, longer than any other drive we have ever made. 21 hours. 21 hours of nothing.

My mother died when I was 7. She was walking home from the store, just picking up some milk, when this damn drunk driver decided to take her out. So there it was, she was dead, found at 5 a.m. sprawled out on the ground. The shop owner from the store that was close by found her then. That was it; all I had from her was her necklace. It was simple, yet it meant so much. It was a small gold heart on a silver chain; the other had gotten to small.

I ended up falling asleep thinking about this, apparently with the heart clasped under my fingers.

Then I woke up, we were there…