A Vignette as smooth as Vinegrette

This was a vignette project that created many mixed feelings for me. The longing of the home that I can no longer go to. The cool air on those spring nights in California. The sadness we lived in. I feel this vignette explains why I am the way I am today and gives me a clear representation of why I write with such cool tones and little anger.

Today was the day. My mom had officially signed the letter saying we were leaving the home I had managed to tear apart with hijinks of a child with a scooter for 7 years. I never meant to scrape the floors as badly as I did, however the shreds exposed the fake wooden floors as black when I chipped the paint away from countless uses of the sofa bed. The house was filled with papers, knickknacks, and just plain “busy” written all over the floors. I could tell at this time my mother had absolutely no clue where this stuff would go. We would spend backbreaking hours cleaning, yet the gigantic wave of hoard wouldn’t budge.

I would paint my nails on our old coffee table chest, another cage to hold back the glowing number of stuff. With this naive movement, I leave 3 drops of horrendous algae colored nail polish I should have never possessed. They will exist until the end of time.

Late nights, listening to mom explain ancestry. Our old chairs worth thousands, yet mom’s not grown enough to part with them. Two similar desks her great grandfather made, I never treated them with the respect they deserve. Our antique fridge, ironically worked better than our actual fridge, hauled off to my aunts. The space we clear, I dance in the dust bunnies. The clanging of the China, both from mom’s wedding and the generations before. It wonders inside its padded cell if it will ever be used. The creaks of our old furniture, as we shove them with all of our might into the 2010 Toyota Prius.

The Toyota Prius. As I called it, Blueberry, for it’s remarkable skill to look like we’re driving a minuscule fruit back and forth. But it’s all ok because we made it. We made it out of constant intervals of chicken nuggets and green beans because that’s all we could afford.We made it out of wondering if I could go on the field trip and if mom would be apart of it, usually not. We made it out of spiraling social lives as we didn’t know how much further we could go like this. Would I have to feel the pang in my throat as I leave my friends for the last time on the playground? Yes, yes I did. Was I the happiest elementary schooler even though I had to wake up at 6 am everyday for both of us to make it to school? Yes, yes I was. Are we still waiting for the days to trash all of our clutter and be happy the way we are? Yes, yes we are. But now, we’re doing it from another house. One of solitude, one of high stress levels, one of confusion, one of love. One with no black marks on the ground from scooters.