id your mom make some coffee yet? I need some." She rambled on and on. I knew the drill. I'm the one who had set up everything and just asked Laren if it was okay with her. She is not exactly a details person. A few of my sleepy friends filed in behind her, their eyes perked when they heard their drug of choice: caffeine. It was going to be a gorgeous day, the midmorning sun already warming the air and glistening off the trees. The shadows felt chilly on my front porch, but we would be moving so quick, I'd probably sweat, anyway. Before I knew it, my room was bare. Only moss-green carpet and flowered wallpaper remained, leaving my window seats so dusty and empty, I felt compelled to sit on them for a last glance down my neighborhood hill. I had waited and watched for years from this view. Whether it was to make sure I'd be off the phone before my parents came home from work or watching for a midnight stranger to come pick me up for a date, this was the best feature of my room. I was almost crying, but I could not pinpoint why. I was getting my chance for freedom.We moved along to Laren's house with the same routine: endless trips up and down stairs, rotating the smoke breaks between boxes of furniture and boxes, pictures being taken of this special day. Again, we were done with her house and we were ready for the third and final leg of our journey. Let me say this. If my bones had not been so weary from lifting three times my weight in furniture, I would have done a victory dance. As the truck was parking, Laren and I jumped out of my car with renewed energy. Signing the lease and getting the keys were small obstacles we were anxious to hurdle. I thought the landlady must have been amused with our enthusiasm because she only flipped through the pages of the lease, telling us it was leasing jargon that even she didn't understand. She disappeared down a hallway and returned with two small silver keys! Laren and I bea...
