Dear Past, You Suck!

This Girl Is On Fi-Yah

      The sun hurt my eyes as I woke. The events of last night weighed heavy on my shoulders. One of the only friends I had here I wouldn't see again. I glanced down at the pile of worn in blankets on the floor. She was probably long gone. She and Tom were probably going to go far away. Maybe they'd get married soon. I wouldn't be able to be there for the big day that she had been hoping for for so long. Maybe they'd have kids and work on a farm. Watching their kids playing in the field from their porch as the sun sets. Celebrating their child's birthday, making sure he couldn't find where they hid the presents. Standing together, gray haired and wrinkled, tears streaming down their faces as their last child gets married. Beaming down at their grandchild, excited to start the process all over. I'm sure they will be very happy together, she never looked happier than when she was with him. And he beamed so widely it was a wonder his face didn't crack. Deep inside I knew that they would never lose that happiness. No matter if they had been married 5 or 50 years. Maybe Abraham and I should have gone with them. We could all start over. All of us best friends, forgetting our stations.

But of course, how long would that last?

I wandered downstairs still in my jeans from yesterday, having not bothered to change last night and not feeling like changing now. The dreary and cloudy day only helped enhance my melancholy mood. I felt like my best friend had moved away, which I guessed she did. There is no one in this time that I really trusted enough to be myself around here. Except for Abraham, but he was usually so busy that I rarely see him. I shuffled along the musty halls looking down at my feet trying to avoid eye contact with any servants that happened to come along. I really didn't feel like pretending to smile and greeting them good morning. I usually applied this method to tired mornings at coffee shops or subway stations so I wouldn't have to be polite or seem rude. Molly called it my 'Morning Moodiness Method.' This morning though,no servants came along. The house was unusually quiet and empty this morning. Even the dining room was empty. No Duchess Hemerton. No Margaret. No servants. After sitting at the table tiredly zoning out on the wall, I realized no one was coming with my breakfast. I hadn't realized how accustomed I had become to being served. Hesitantly I made my way to the kitchen. My tiredness began to slowly fade as my unease at the emptiness of the house settled on me. The kitchen had to have at least someone in there. There was always someone in the kitchen.

But this time there wasn't. Okay, this was really weird. Did everyone decide to skip town too? Maybe Duchess Hemerton let everyone off as celebration of my marriage. Fat chance. If anything she would make them work harder. I headed back upstairs taking the stairs two at a time. If no one was here I had to find out why, which meant going out, which meant(unfortunately) getting dressed in 'appropriate attire.' I put on a basic skirt and top, skipping the corset and panniers. I knocked an oil lamp off the dresser as I hopped around trying to get my clothes on and off quickly. Should I pick it up? I briefly thought as I looked at it. Nope no time. I didn't bother with shoes even before running out the doors. Something told me I should hurry. It seems like I'm always hurrying around now.

I decided a horse would be the quickest way into town by myself. So I quickly got my favourite horse out of the stable (a speckled grey and white horse named North.) He already had a saddle on which he seemed very annoyed with. I lead him to a fence so I could get onto his back. It took me three tries to get onto his back. Then I was ready to go. Only flaw in my plan was that I didn't really know how to ride a horse. It always  looked fairly easy in the movies and I guess I assumed it would be a fairly natural thing. It wasn't. The horse did move forward but barely at a walking pace. I tried digging my heels in like the cowboys did in old westerns. And the horse shot forward. Well it proabably wasn't going that fast but it felt like it to me. I slid around on the shiny leather making me feel like I was about to fall off. The way the saddle's sides seemed to dip up and down side to side made me uncomfortable. How could people do this for days? I ditched the knob at the front of the saddle for the horse's mane. I held on for dear life as we shot down the straight gravel road heading for town.