"Want me to bring in your stuff?" my dad offers.
"Sure, most of my stuff is in the trunk or backseat."
My dad opens the trunk and a large exhale comes from his end of the car.
"Look at all these." He reaches inside.
I've collected hundreds of DVDs and Blu-Rays over the years; most of them owned by my mom first. We were such movie fans, and I owe my obsession to her..
My dad has tears in his eyes as he picks up a random one.
The Goonies.
"Your mom loved this movie." He swipes at his eye to remove a tear.
"It's a classic."
"You tried to talk us into booby-trapping the front yard so no one could come to the door unless we let them through."
He grabs another movie.
Clueless.
I groan at the reminder that Cher and Josh were also stepsiblings who lived together. And gross, didn't they end up together in the end?
Molly watches my dad riffle through my collection, and I'm unsure of my next move. Should we include her in our memories?
Did my dad or Molly ever get uncomfortable or envious when their late spouse was brought up? If so, they hide it well. Because Molly is respectful and gives us this moment to reminisce.
"I haven't seen these in years, honey. Not since you moved out."
"Don't worry, I'll keep them all in the box. Maybe they can stay in the garage?"
Molly opens the doors and I see an old Mustang sitting in the spot that once was my own.
"Wow, you still kept her husband's car?" I mutter.
"Yes, Molly doesn't want to get rid of it. Theo claims he doesn't want it, but we think he'll change his mind. Look at it. It's a classic."
Molly's husband left behind a 1966 Ford Mustang. That's all I know because I am not a car person. It's not one of those cars that'll sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars, but it's valuable to Molly and Theo. Theo and his dad supposedly worked on it together. I can see why it would be a difficult decision to make.
"I cleared off a space on the shelves for your movies," Molly yells from inside the garage.
"Thanks." I watch her collect a heavy box from my trunk.
If she was pregnant, she couldn't be lifting heavy things, right? Especially for her age?
"Come on inside." My dad's attempt at getting all my belongings in one trip is almost successful. I carry a tower of boxes and leave them at the entrance.
I packed like our apartment was on fire with no organization. Everything I own sits in the foyer, and it isn’t much to show for almost thirty years of life. How depressing.
I take a deep breath and exhale as I prepare my psyche for the changes made to the house. So far, nothing screams at me, which is a relief. It's quite peculiar coming back home and not remembering it the way it used to be.
"Are you hungry?" Molly—the typical mom who wants to make sure her child, even if it's a stepchild, is taken care of.
"I'm okay, thank you. I may go lie down upstairs if you don't mind."
"You'll need the Wi-Fi password. I'll text it to you," my dad offers.
