Nothing but the Truth

I had a severe, fiery hatred for Maine. It was cold and always seemed gray, even on sunny days. Mom always said it wasn’t so bad, that I was just pining for Humboldt, and she was probably right. Mississippi would always be home, no matter how long it had been since I’d lived there. Home is where the heart is, and my heart resided in the shoreline.

All this was probably why Mom wore a proud grin when I came home from school my last day before spring break. It didn’t feel like spring to me, but my mother’s smile was warm enough.

“Min kärlek!” Her native tongue was Swedish, so most of her pet names were also Swedish. Min kärlek meant my love. “I got a new job, a restaurant in Humboldt. Are you excited?”

“We’re moving back?” I clarified.

“Ja, ja, yes!” Mom cried. Crystal blue eyes, the same color as mine, were sparkling with excitement on her pale, pretty face.

“When?” I bit my lip, trying not to get excited. Hopes meant disappointment, invariably, or so I had learned.

“By Friday, if we hurry,” she told me. “So pack, kärlek, pack!”

Which meant the next several days were blurry with too much information, too many boxes, and more stress than I liked, but with glee bubbling below the surface when I let it. Mom’s new job was at Russell’s Café, a cute little joint ran by Mia Russell and her husband Brian. It was modeled after the cafés generally seen in the 1950s - jukebox, tile floor, and all. We’d live just down the road from the restaurant, and on the other side of town from our old house. It would be pretty close to perfect. But I just couldn’t buy the pretty story that Mom was selling.

After packing, which was a challenge in itself due to the fact that Mom had the makings of a hoarder, she booked plane tickets and got all our stuff shipped down and before I really had time to process it, I was bidding goodbye to dreaded Augusta and hello to Humboldt.