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JANUARY
“Stop crying, Mama. I know what you’re doing,” I plead, too busy packing to continue the same conversation we’ve had every day for the last two months. She knew this day was coming. From the moment I heard about Candy Cane Key on a travel show two years ago, I have been completely transparent with my plans.
It’s a little slice of paradise—my version of heaven.
They’ve got warm weather, island vibes, lots of stray cats needing homes, and Christmas all year long.
Sign me up.
Sue Ellen Jane, my long-suffering mother, was not as impressed. When she caught wind of my desire to move, she launched a fevered campaign to make me a lifetime resident of Sycamore Mountain—home to six generations of Janes.
I’ve been victimized by countless blind dates and undesirable setups. Bombarded by true crime stories about young, single women who moved away from the loving bosom of their family and tragically ended up dead in a ditch. She’s recently recruited family and friends to pressure me to stay with heartfelt pleas and predictable guilt trips.
It was a colossal waste of time. I didn’t take this decision lightly and won’t be deterred from chasing my dreams.
“Harlow Meredith Jane, you’re my one and only baby. How can you leave me all alone with your daddy? We’ll kill one another without someone here to play referee.” Mama goes deep and pulls an outrageous excuse out of her spandex-covered derriere. This is an all-new low for her. First, she besmirches my poor daddy, the most beloved music teacher in the tri-county area, and then she lays on a tenth layer of guilt.
I fold and refold my jeans, color-coordinating from light to dark and lining them neatly in my new luggage, a present from my friends Vance and Gwen.
My mother sits on the edge of the bed, clutching a stack of cardigans to her chest, holding them hostage while she lectures me about what she perceives as my warped priorities. “You’re twenty-one years old and still have so much to learn about life. What about college? You promised to return to Appalachian State this year and finish your degree. That’s far more important than running off to an island full of cats.” She shakes her head and sighs, frustrated I’m not as pliable as I used to be.
“Mama, I won’t be packing sweaters. It rarely gets below 70 degrees in the Keys, and if it does, I have a few hoodies. You can unhand my cardigans and place them back in the box for storage. Vance promised to take them to Goodwill,” I say curtly, trying hard to disguise my annoyance for the sake of her broken heart. It isn’t difficult to put myself in her place. I may not have children, but I know letting them leave the nest can’t be easy. My cats aren’t even allowed outdoors. The thought alone gives me hives.
Mama’s sad expression forces me to soften my tone. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. This isn’t about leaving you and Daddy. It’s about striking out on my own.” I angle my head and offer a sympathetic smile, unsure how she’ll receive it. One false move and the waterworks might only get worse.
I’m not a well-traveled gal. The only times I’ve ever left our little corner of the world have been for field trips to Washington, D.C., and family visits to South Carolina and Georgia. My family isn’t known for straying too far from home. But that doesn’t mean I can’t change things up.
I come from a long line of mountain people who were once brave enough to forge their way onto the frontier and carve out their place in the world. Those days are long gone. The last few generations may have grown complacent, happy with small-town life, and wary of the outside world. But that’s not who I am. The blood of frontiersmen and adventurers runs through my veins, and I intend to make them proud.
It’s a shame I’m hurting my mama, but she’s always known I was meant for different things. Perhaps that’s why she’s struggled to keep me under her thumb. It didn’t work, but Lord knows she tried her best.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve saved my pennies and planned my escape. Sycamore Mountain is a lovely place to call home, raise your family and chill out in those sunset years. If my Grandma Jane hadn’t bequeathed me a small fortune and set me up for life, it would have taken me years to afford this move. But she did, and I will take full advantage of her gift.
“Sweet pea, it’s getting late in the day. Maybe you should wait until tomorrow to leave. I’ll have your daddy head into town, grab your favorites and whip up a goodbye barbecue. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Sue Ellen Jane is nothing if not persistent.
I love her to death, but all these delays will only make it harder to peel out into the sunset. My heart feels heavy enough without adding another evening packed with trips down memory lane followed by ugly tears.
I lift my wrist to check the time, frowning when I notice I’m cutting it close to my scheduled departure. My van is packed with snacks and essentials. All five of my cats have been caught, fed, sedated, and are now sitting pretty in their carriers. I won’t go through that fresh hell again tomorrow. The only thing left to do is say goodbye to Daddy, Gwen, and Vance, and then try to make sure Mama doesn’t chloroform me on the way out.
“We already had a goodbye barbecue potluck two days ago. Vance marinated his prizewinning brisket for thirty-six hours, and Daddy still has leftovers in the fridge. It’s time for me to go, Mama. It’s almost noon, and I have a seven-hour drive to Tallahassee.” I zip my last piece of luggage and roll it out of the room.
Daddy spots me from the foot of the stairs and rushes to take it out of my hands. He lugs it downstairs and points to the five large carriers lined up by the door.
“The kids are ready, darling. Jada is getting restless, and I believe Simon and Luna are having an altercation. They keep hissing at one another like this is the first time they’ve ever met.” My father smiles then bends forward, shushing my Calico, Sadie, as he lifts her carrier and heads to the van. Daddy loves cats as much as I do. Mama is a dog person. She’s never owned a pup but insists she prefers them.
I follow my father outside and help him load the last bags and carriers. It’s unusually uneventful; the cats always make a fuss when plucked from the comfort of their cozy life, but I like to believe they understand we’re headed for bigger and better things.
“Sweet pea, when will you be back? Your father and I plan to visit sometime this summer, but you can always come home. Don’t hesitate to ask your mama and daddy for help if things fall apart.” Mama panics and nearly knocks Daddy over to get to me.
He stumbles forward and catches himself on the sliding door. “Sue Ellen, for heaven’s sake. You’re practically cursing her. Let my daughter leave in peace. Of course, she knows she can always come home. But I’m betting she’ll make it just fine.” Daddy’s always been my biggest fan, and hearing him defend me again brings tears to my eyes. Tears I unsuccessfully try to suck back into my eyes.
Returning to my parent’s home this final week was probably a huge mistake, but I had no choice. I made the mistake of listing my house, which I inherited from my Grandma Jane, before Thanksgiving, and that sucker sold within a week. Due to the buyers’ fervent wish to move in by the end of the year, and the bonus I received for making it happen, I was forced to move home before my departure to Candy Cane Key.
Now I’m paying for it.
With the clock ticking away and only five hours of sunlight left, I crawl into the back of my van and make sure the kitties are secure for traveling. Jada, Simon, and Luna greet me with a meow. Sadie hisses, enraged that she’s in a vehicle and probably under the impression we’re on the way to the vet’s office. I calm her down with a pet, then peer into the last carrier containing my old girl, Sidney, already snoring, thanks to the sedative I snuck into her wet food early this morning.
