MOVING DAY

MOVING DAY

My eyelids fluttered as I awakened to the gray-misty morning. I didn't want to get up: every muscle ached from yesterday's handiwork of packing. Packed boxes along with partially packed ones were stacked everywhere in the bedroom with only a narrow pathway to the door.
I rolled over while Richard contined to sleep. I knew he would need as much rest as possible before our day began in earnest. I stretched as I reached for the wrap-around I left at the foot of the bed the night before, then pulled my aching body out from under the covers and went to peer out the window.
It was July, but the house was chilly after a night of steady rain. I was glad I had thought far enough ahead to leave out my wrap-around. I padded toward the kitchen where I had enough fixings for coffee and toast. It wasn't long before I heard Richard stirring around.
Groggily he asked, "Carol, where are you? We need to get busy and get out of here."
"In the kitchen. You want some coffee?"
He gave me a crooked smile as he entered the archway to the kitchen. "Where'd the coffee come from?" he asked.
"I knew last night we would be hungry this morning. It isn't much, just coffee and toast."
Richard filled the archway with his muscular body. His dark hair was tousled and I could barely see the brown of his half-opened eyes.
"I guess that means we've got more kitchen junk to pack and I'll have to find another box somehwere."
"I figured it was either this or McDonald's. Knowing you, you probably want to eat and work at the same time. Anyway, didn't you say there'd be at least one more trip for boxes?"
"Yes, but now I'll have to pay for another one I wasn't counting on. This move is costing more and more."
I studied RIchard's face for a moment. I couldn't help but laugh.
"And, what's so funny?"
"You," I answered. "As many boxes as you've bought the last few days and you're worried about one more box?"
His face flushed. "Let's just drop it," he said. :Where's the bread?"
We ate hurriedly and it was no time before RIchard was off for the boxes. I busied myself with stripping the bed and folding the linens,. When RIchard returned, we worked at a steady pace and it was well after Noon before we stopped for a break.
Richard loaded the U-Haul truck we leased the day before while I finished the packing chores inside. He was rain-soaked when he stomped in the front door and deposited water all over the carpet.
"How much more is there to load?" he asked as he swiped rain from his brow with the back of his already-wet hand.
"I don't know. Quite a bit."
Richard took a quick inventory of the house and then was back by my side. "We've got a problem," he said.
"What problem?" This was one time I wished RIchard was more talkative. It always seemed like pulling boots off swollen feet to get him to open up and I usually ended up having to guess at his meaning.
"I hate to say this, Carol, but I think this truck is too small."
"What? It can't be. You said you measured everything and you knew exactly what size to get. You..."
"I know, I know, but I wasn't counting on so many boxes. We must have stored junk away for years. It's in every cranny and crevice. You don't have to tell me. I feel bad enough as it is."
"But,...
Richard scratched the back of his head, then looked at me with an intensity that seared my nerves.
"The only thing to do is to go back and get a larger truck, then hope we can still hit the road before dark," he said.
"You're positive it won't all fit on this truck?"
"There's just too much more to go and the van is already three-fourths full. Of course, if we left some things behind.,,"
I ignored Richard's last comment. "I hope they still have the one we saw yesterday. You remember, we asked about it when we got this one."
"Don't remind me."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
Richard's face flushed. "Are you kidding? This is going to be difficult enough as it is. No, I'll face this alone. I'll just have to transfer our things from one truck to the other while I'm there. Besides, don't you still have some things to finish up here?"
I watched at the door as Richard closed the back doors to the van then headed down the street and then got back to work. Most of the packing had already been done so I checked closets and drawers for anything left behind.
It didn't seem as if RIchard had been gone long when I heard him back up to the front door with the new truck. Rain was pelting down.
"Gee, I wish I had some dry clothes. I'm soaked."
"You do."
"That's my wife. You think of everything. Where are they?"
"In the car."
He frowned. "Oh, no way. I'm not going through this rain even if it's just to the car."
"I guess you're right," I said as I smiled. "You'd only get them wet too."
"I wish this rain would let up. It sure doesn't help any."
"I think the farmers would tend to disagree."
"Oh, funny. We're not farmers." Richard gave me a piecing look with those deep brown eyes of his. "I'd like to get on the road some time today," Richard said. "Is that too much to ask?"
"If you're asking me, you've got the wrong person. Weather was never one of my favorite subjects and I don't control it."
"Did I say you did?" Richard's voice was filled with frustration and he wore a frown again. The creases made deep ruts in his forehead. This was my cue to keep my thoughts to myself.
Richard scanned the living room. It was beginning to have that hollow sound that accompanies vacant buildings. "Have you got much more to pack?" he asked as his gaze fell back on me.
"I've got my part finished."
"Good, then you can give me a hand. I'd like to get out of here as soon as we can. The clouds don't look good off to the west."
"Sure, what can I do?"
"Start moving the small boxes up to the front door. That'll save me from having to wade through the house all the time."
We worked in silence for about an hour when thunder boomed close by somewhere. Richard came down out of the van. A look of anxiety was written on his face.
"How much more?"
"About half a dozen boxes is all."
"Good," he said. "That's about all this truck will take."
I swallowed hard before I continued. "Of course, that doesn't include the small stuff."
He glared at me. "What small stuff?" His booming voice echoed in my ears.
"Mops, brooms, stuff that wouldn't fit in boxes. Besides, I thought I'd give the house one last once-over berfore we left."
"Forget the once-over, Carol. "Just as soon as this rain lets up a little bit, you get that stuff in the car. I don't care how you do it. Then, we're out of here."
His face was flushed again. I figured his patience was growing more than thin so I didn't argue. Mops, brooms, pails, all kinds of paraphernalia went haphazardly into the back end of the car, then the back seat, and finally the passenger seat. It seemed the more I packed in, the more there was.
Finally, I was in the passenager seat of the van, the truck doors were closed and the car was secured on the flatbed trailer behind. Richard got in under the steering wheel and cranked the engine. We were on our way, or so we thought. It didn't matter how much gas Richard gave the engine, we weren't moving. The front wheels began to spin and we found ourselves mired in mud. Richard pounded his fists against the steering wheel and groaned. I sat in silence.
He switched off the ignition with a snap, then turned to face me and said, "I guess you'll have to go to Sandy's to use the phone."
The rain was now a fine mist as I trudged to Sandy's place two doors to the west. She didn't answer the door right away and I began to wonder if she was home. I was weighing my options about where I might find another phone when she came to the door.
"Carol," she saId, "I thought you and RIchard would have been long gone."
"We did too, but no such luck."
"Can I help you with something?" she asked.
"I need to use your phone. The truck's stuck in the yard."
It wasn't long before Dean showed up from the garage. He maneuvered around until he was in line with the van and then hooked onto it.
Once in the cab of the tow truck, Dean gave it a little gas and then a little more, then still some more. The van did some rocking, but we weren't moving. Then the rocking stopped. The front wheels of Dean's truck were completely off the pavement. I would have laughed if I weren't so close to tears.
Dean backed up until all his tires were on the ground again, then began a gentle rocking motion back and forth. I was getting sea sick in the midst of all this commotioin. Richard sat with his hands gripped aorund the steering wheel as if it would take off for outer space if he released it. Finally, yes, finally we were out of the mud and on solid pavement.
Dean had the van unhooked and was back in his tow truck when I jumped out of the van to see how much we owed him for his services. He simply waved.
"Dean, Dean, wait," I yelled as I reached his door. "How much...?"
"Forget it, Carol," he said. His grin spread across the entire lower part of his face.
"But, we must own you something."
He waved his hand in dismissal and said, "Just call it a going away present. You've been a good customer over the years."
Dean hit the accelerator and was gone.
I must have been wearing a frown when I climbed back into the van because Richard gave me a curious look. "What did Dean say?"
"To forget it."
"Forget it?" Richard questioned.
"Yes, I answered. "Said it was a going away present."
"Whoopee." Richard nearly tore my ears off he was so loud. "At last I'm saving some money."
Richard hit the accelerator and we were on our way. I don't think he heard me say, "money, money, that's all you think of." Maybe it was a good thing because it probably would have started an argument. We drove in silence for about fifty miles.
"Carol, I don't know about you," Richard said, "but, I'm beat. Let's find a motel, then start out early in the morning."
With 650 more miles to travel, I wished we had gotten farther on our way, but I wasn't complaining. It had been a hard day. I fell to sleep that evening listening to Richard mumble about which route would be the best one and the price of gasoline.