To Be Beautiful

"This wallpaper is so fetch!" Mom trilled, twirling around the once vacant living room that was now unfortunately overpopulated with ugly brown boxes of useless junk that none of us could really bare to leave behind.

"Mom. . ." I began, exhaling through my nose as my eyes trailed over the tacky floral print, pasted to the walls.

"Nobody really uses fetch anymore, and if they did. . .they'd stop if they heard it escaping your lips." I informed her, hardly sparing her a glance. On the contrary, I was far too interested in running the tip of a box-cutter blade through a thick line of duck tape.

Not even slightly offended by my rude remark, my mother smirked. "I'm bringing it back in style, darling."

"Sure you are." I agreed halfheartedly, distracted by the fact that tape no longer stood between my valuables and I.

Timidly, my fingers slipped past the cardboard folds and dove into the sea of trinkets.
Upon making contact with something cold and distinctly rectangular, I was quick to retrieve it.

From behind dusty glass, cheerful family faces smiled up at me. It was, although not a photograph of my direct family, still important to me.

Or at least, two child-like faces in particular were.

"Ellie, we don't even have the furniture unloaded yet, so there's no need to go unpacking things like that. . ." My mom began, her voice trailing off once she caught sight of my beloved possession.

"Oh. . .your Grandpa Kevin and your Great Aunt Kim were so young there." Mom piped up, reaching forward to trail her fingers along the glass gently. Sometimes, it bothered me how she seemed to talk as if she knew them, as if she actually cared that they were no longer around.

"Oh - is that who they are? It's hard to recognize people that I've barely ever gotten to see." I murmured quickly, pressing the picture to my chest as I stood, no longer having any interest in the box it came from.

"Ellie. . .why don't you have a look around the neighborhood, I'm sure you'll run into a lot of familiar faces. . ." My mother suggested finally, appearing quite uncomfortable with my snide and ultimately truthful remarks.

Although it wasn't something I was entirely in favor of doing, I managed to agree.

"I guess I could do that. . ." I grumbled hesitantly.

"Here, let me take this, I'll put it up for you." Mom called again, reaching for the framed photograph.

It took several minutes of shooting unsure stares at her, to finally fork it over.

"If you break it, I will be pissed." I warned, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Yes, sweetie. My, my, ever since you've become a teenager you just love to use such vulgar words, pissy, pissy, pissy. . ." She replied mockingly, gently taking the picture from my hands.

Although I was highly embarrassed at her belittling statement, I simply shrugged, turning to make a beeline for the door.

"I have my cell phone if you freakin' need me. . ." I called over my shoulder.

In response all I got was an overly amused, "Of course, dear!" from my mom.

Upon stepping out of the generic front door, I prepared to run into familiar faces from the past.

Most of which, I was not even remotely optimistic about seeing.