...story continues
Ultimately, we have arrived at the basement terminal. A typical feeling was strongly felt as I screened through the place. There was no welcoming crowd, unlike those homecoming events back in New York. I looked away, despaired. Here I can see many strangers were shuffling in and out either with welcoming or escorting, weeping and binding farewell, all comes with a reason.
We waited patiently for mom who has went to the information counter, with our luggage placed on the ground; next to the benches where we were resting. It was a sore to the eye seeing scavengers all over the place. Unexpectedly, my view is distracted when a kiddo walked up to me begging ‘some offerings’. With no more than a blank stare, there was no other reaction to offer. I was simply too exhausted.
I gazed as she turned around, walking towards another adolescent. Never denying they lead a miserable living, in search for food and shelters, but I believed they have better alternative than to becoming a scavenger, haven’t they? My eyebrows knitted, pondering the qualms we will be facing in this foreign land.
Shortly thereafter, mom came back with the information, “The bus terminal is located three blocks away from the main station.”
Whether we like it or not, we ought to be there to catch the five and a quarter shuttle that will bring us to our destination. And, with the load of our luggage and tiring limbs, we staggered all the way there.
“Just another few miles away,” mom reassured us, constantly.
We were lucky to get there in time. The bumpy ride, of ten minutes, halted at a drink-commercial bus stop. There was no farther instruction given after alighting from the shuttle. We stood there a while, waiting, scrutinizing the place. Dickens has begun to itch uneasily due to the steaming heat and has a sore shoulder by helping Jaclyn to carry her luggage from the terminal. Again, I looked at mom expecting an instruction or something. But she simply wasn’t focusing the path we were heading.
“Have we gone astray?” I asked in a coarse tone, without even allowing her another second to think. I’m not sure we have made the right decision, in the first place.
Not very far away, I saw this vague shadow. It was waiving towards our direction. The figure was getting much closer. She was short and stout, about 230 lbs with curly gray hair. I caught a glimpse of her deep sagging cleavage when she bends forward to speak to Jaclyn.
I turned to mom just managed to catch sight of her face that glows with a wide smile upon seeing her. She is greeted as Mrs. Baker. According to their dialogue, it is learn that she was duly responsible for our well-beings in Carolina and was bringing us to our new home. Along the route, there are many stray cats, old benches with bird droppings and junk rusty items.
“Please help yourselves out,” she pronounced, handling over a bunch of keys to mom “I will be back shortly with dinner.”
We walked unwillingly down a little stone path, still with the load on our shoulders, heading towards the main entrance of our new home. I simply couldn’t tell how awesome the others felt when the main door opens up wide before us. With another few puffs of wind and a thin mattress, I bet, we could easily fall into deep slumber.
Our floor area was barely 480 square feet. You can see everything in just one glance: a bedroom, an airy hall, some light furniture, our luggage and, our uninvited guests, house flies. I saw how despaired mom was, looking at the stove, without her dreamed kitchen and those favorite utensils.
Eventually twilight has come to greet us together with some creepy noises originate from pest and inserts from every loop holes you can find. We exchanged sinister gazes each time upon hearing those sounds, fearing that they might have an attempt to attack us.
The next morning started early. On the dining table, there was a note seeking us to help ourselves with the prepared breakfast as mom has gone down town to make several essential purchases. While waiting for her arrival, we unload our clothes from the luggage then stacked in the dark oak wardrobe, and do some simple chores.
A thunderous engine was heard, pulling up at our compound. Without seconds, we had run to the entrance to check out what happened. There it was mom, in tomboyish attires, alighting from the front seat instructing workers to unload some newly brought furniture. I stared at mom awkwardly as I have never remembered an instance mom putting-on such attires before. She looked, as though, braced up to face the uncertainties.
Meanwhile, it was astounding seeing workers unloading piece by piece of furniture into our residence: a set of sofa with cabinet, a queen-sized bed then on the installations while the other man doing some wiring work at the patio for electrical appliances.
The one and only power point installed by Mrs. Smith earlier wasn’t appropriate for high voltage electrical appliances, but I couldn’t figure out the reason behind the extra two installations at the other end of the patio.
Upon the removal of plastics wrappings of the sofa, we seated contently with a beam printed on our face. Mom walked to us looking impressed then uttered, “I have taken up an odd job doing laundry for the neighborhood starting next week after the machines arrived.”
“But mom, I thought I heard machines,” I sought for confirmation.
“Yeap, I brought two,” she added, “one is for dry cleaning with front opening,” walking away to double check the arrangements at the patio.
I followed her swiftly behind. She might have expected I will be throwing her with a dozen of questions. Before I even started, she uttered in a convincing tone, “Honey, no worries,” she said while reaching out for the gardening equipments brought earlier, “Mrs. Smith and I have make necessary arrangements. She will be in-charge of bringing in those laundries and circulating back to customers.” I just kept quiet, visualizing over the scenario, hoping there wouldn’t be any setbacks.
“By the way do you mind giving me a hand,” she invited me to do some gardening, diverting my attention away. The rest of the day spent, apart from touching up the compound, we have cat naps then stroll down the neighborhood, to the hardware shop located at the corner of junction.
Since school will only be commencing in a couple of months later, I offered mom some help with her odd jobs which was mostly in drying up and packing the laundries. Time flies and it was almost end of a season.
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