User:BoggessT/Storyland

Child Emma did not want to leave her home. She didn’t think she had the heart to say goodbye to Mr. Bikkerman. Afterall, he was the butterfly that showed her how to get to storyland.

“Emma dear, hurry! We need to leave soon.”

Mother had never been this persistent in leaving our home, not since the day Father left us in Paris. We would have been fine staying in the city, but Mother said the country reminded her too much of Father. We first moved around from city to city, everytime slightly farther away from the past. A few hostiles in Amsterdam, a bunch of towns I can’t pronounce in Germany. But one night when we were staying with some nice people we met at the market, Mother wouldn’t stop crying; we were moving again, probably in the morning.

I never bothered to ask Mother where we were going anymore, we were never there long enough for me to care remembering the name. But I knew from Mother’s crying that we were going far away this time. Early the next day she was on the phone with what I guess to be “business people,” I never eavesdrop on Mother but this time I was intrigued. I overheard her say something about a job offer and a city called ‘Seattle’ or some sorts, she seemed relieved. It almost sounded as if Mother had finally found a place that could keep her happy.

Life in Europe was mostly a blur, hopping from town to town, train to bus, bus to airplane. Living this kind of life you have no time to make friends, and if you do you just have to say goodbye shortly after. That is why I hoped Seattle would be a place where Mother and I could stay put for at least a few months.

Money was never an issue with Mother, she was always willing to work anywhere. I supposed when you need money you can’t be picky with what you do. Being too young to work, I usually spent the day wherever Mother was working, or with the folks we were staying with. I didn’t go to many public schools either, but I didn’t mind, Mother always taught me what I needed to know and books were always accessible.

When Mother and I arrived in Seattle we took a bus from the airport to downtown. The bus ride was much different than those from back home, we were very cramped and we only had a few suitcases. We could have taken a cab, but mother insisted on saving money.

“We need to experience everything,” she would tell me, meaning we were running low on funds.

This was my first time in the U.S. and it seemed very bleak compared to home. The closer we got to the city the more interesting everything became, unfortunately a lot of the buildings were square and bland. There seemed to be no history here, all things were a bit too modern.

It rained all day, ever since we stepped off the plane. It wasn’t even enjoyable rain. It fell lightly, dampening the streets, but just enough to annoyingly and slowly seep through every layer of my clothes. For how much it seemed to rain in that memorable day, hardly anyone chose to carry an umbrella, including Mother and I, but that was only because we didn’t have one. We made our way through downtown, my head constantly looking upward at all the buildings. I had to squint my eyes to keep the rain out.

SPLASH!

“Emma!”

“Sorry Mother,” I appologized, too busy looking upwards I stepped in a puddle and got both Mother and I even more wet.

“Here we are.”

I stopped examining the gray city skies to see where ‘here’ was. We stood in front of a run down brick building, a faint numer ‘5’ was outlined where the stone number used to be, above the arch door. I never cared what kind of place we stayed in, but something about this place was peculiar. The building was obviously old, which I adored, but there was something which I could not place. There was a history here, and I was determined to find out what it was.

As much as I wanted to explore the city, I wanted to at least be dry first. Mother managed to take care of our living situation before we left the country, I guessed it was part of who she was talking to on the phone before we left. I waited in the hallway while Mother was talking to the apartment manager, my clothes were beginning to dry but I wasn’t worried. I could change as soon as we got into our room. My hair is what bothered me, sticking to the side of my face and still dripping everywhere. A tiny puddle had begun forming at my feet.

Mother told me if things went well here she would let me have a pet, as long as it wasn’t going to be a bother and I could take care of it. At the time I already knew what I wanted. My heart was set on a kitten, one that was young enough to be playful, but didn’t need your full attention.

“Meeow!”

“Oh hush, your majesty. I just fed you.” Alice acts as if she’s the queen here, head held high, ever so proud of her pink collar and dingling bell.

“Don’t forget your cat dear!” Mother hollared.

“Of course I won’t Mother.”

When you move around as much as I do, you begin to notice how few possessions you actually need. Aside from my suitcase and the furry queen I had a small box that contained my most memorable memories. My favorite was a silver pin of a bluebell flower. I had found it in an antique shop back home and begged Mother for it. I rarely asked for anything so Mother was generous and bought it for me. I keep the blubell safe at all times, and wear it when the sun is shining, I don’t want the water to ruin it. Along with the pin lies a tiny sculpture of a flying fish. This one I recently obtained. I got it from Mr. Bikkerman when mother took me to the park on the waterfront.

Mother doesn’t know I have the sculpture, I don’t think she would understand what it means to me. Mr. Bikkerman told me it was always a way for me to take storyland wherever I went.

Creeeek!

Mother opened the door to our new home, we were both winded after hauling our suitcases up all those stairs. Our home was dingy, not in a dirty was, just excessively worn. There were only two windows in the entire place, each letting minimal light inside. When I poked my head out there wasn't a view, just the brick wall of the building next to us. I felt if I reached out I could actually feel the weather-worn bricks. It really didn't matter to me if we had a view or not, it was just as likely we would be moving again in a few months. Our floor was barren, no carpet, which to Mother and I was a relief. Neither of us liked carpet, it got dirty quickly and had to be maintained.

It was a long day for Mother and I, with the plane ride and walking in the rain. We didn't have any beds or furniture so Mother just laid our only blanket on the floor.

"We only have to do this for a little while," she assured me.

I nodded and walked over to the widow again but this time looked up. With all the city light obscuring the sky it was difficult to see if it was still cloudy. And there in a tiny clear patch I noticed a faint twinkle. A slight smile played across my lips, I didn't think it would rain tomorrow. I retreated from the window to join Mother on the floor. Yawning deeply I sat with Mother and she wrapped the blanket tightly around us both. Mothers humming and her warm embrace had quickly put me asleep.

This was my favorite part, dreaming meant anything could be real. I often wished I could dream while I was awake. I loved the city, but nature was in my heart as well. The two are not that different in a wondrous way. Both vastly different with the sun at its peak. and when it sleeps. I dream of forest and city combined. Tonight I dreamt of storyland.

To be continued...