39

Moving Day

Church didn’t feel right to Lily. Grandpa Miller wasn’t on the front bench like he usually was. He didn’t announce the songs like he usually did. He didn’t ask someone to lead the songs like he usually did. Aunt Susie wasn’t there to play with after church. Right after the auction, Grandpa and Grandma Miller had loaded a truck with all their belongings and moved to Pennsylvania.

All that Lily could think about was moving. She could not sit still. She wanted to go, and she did not want to go.

Tomorrow, a big truck would come to Singing Tree Farm. They would start loading their belongings and make the move. Pennsylvania sounded much nicer now that she knew Grandpa and Grandma Miller already lived there and would be waiting to welcome them. On Saturday, Mama had taken Lily to say goodbye to Trisha. Trisha promised to write to Lily every week. Lily thought that was a nice idea, but she knew that it was hard to remember to write letters. After all, she had only written Teacher Ellen once.

Early Monday morning, Lily sat by the living room window and watched a big truck back up slowly and carefully to the front porch. The driver hopped out of the cab to talk to Papa, then he unhitched the trailer and drove away.

Lily grabbed her coat and ran outside. Papa was opening the trailer doors. “Can I see the inside of the trailer?” she said.

“Go and get Joseph and Dannie,” Papa said. “They might like to see the inside too. I’ll help you up so you can play inside.”

Lily ran back inside to find her brothers. They were both playing with their farm sets. When Lily explained that Papa had said they could play in the big trailer, they jumped up and ran to get their coats. Lily helped Dannie close his coat and slip his little hands into mittens.

Papa hoisted each child, one by one, into the trailer. Lily liked the hollow echo as they walked up and down the long trailer. It sounded even better when they ran. But it wasn’t long before they grew tired of that game. There wasn’t much to do or see inside an empty trailer.

Papa helped each one hop out. “Mama probably needs your help to get the last of our things packed, Lily,” he said. “You should go inside and help her.”

Lily went back to the house, while Joseph and Dannie followed Papa out to the barn. Mama handed Lily a box and told her to pack all her toys. Even Sally. Lily did not like stuffing Sally in a box. She knew she was only a rag doll, but it still felt as if she were suffocating her.

Mama helped Lily tape the box of toys shut. She handed Lily the marker to write LILY’S TOYS on the top, and then set it next to the door. Many other boxes were piled up. They were waiting for Papa to load them onto the trailer tomorrow morning.

That evening, as Lily got ready for bed, she looked around her room. It looked so bare. It looked sad and unfriendly. There was nothing on top of her dresser. If she looked in the drawers, they would be empty. Her closet was empty. Everything looked too empty. She climbed into her bed and squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to see it. She did not like moving. She did not like it at all.

Morning arrived, and with it came their friends and neighbors. Everyone came who was left in Lily’s church. Women brought big pots of food and little one-burner kerosene stoves to heat the pots. Mama couldn’t cook with her own pots and pans because they had all been boxed up, ready to load onto the trailer. Someone had brought a few of the church benches along so there would be places to sit after the chairs had been loaded.

The men started to carry heavy furniture out of the house. Then they took the boxes. Mama scurried around mopping floors and washing windows as each room was emptied. She wanted the house to be sparkling clean for the new family who had bought Singing Tree Farm.

It didn’t take long for the men to move everything out of the house. All that was left was the big heavy cookstove in the kitchen. Papa took the stovepipe down and carried it out. Six men gathered around the stove and lifted it up. Slowly and carefully, they shuffled their way out of the house with the heavy stove and up the ramp into the trailer. Now nothing was left that belonged to them. Nothing at all. The house looked much bigger and sounded funny. As people talked, their voices echoed off the bare walls and floors. Lily shivered. She felt even worse than she had felt last night. Her house was just a house now. Not a home.

It was time to eat. Men washed up at the water trough outside the barn by pumping icy cold water and splashing it over their hands and face. Lily was glad she didn’t have to wash up there. Too cold.

Inside the empty house, everyone gathered in a circle. They stood with their hands clasped behind their backs and bowed their heads for a short silent prayer. After Papa lifted his head, a signal that prayer was over, people started laughing and talking. They formed a line to fill their paper plates with baked beans, potato casserole, and hot dogs. Dessert included fruit tapioca pudding and cookies. There were always, always cookies. But Lily knew that lunches on moving days weren’t as good as barn raisings or other times when everyone got together to work.

After lunch was over, the men went back outside. Lily stood at the window and watched as they helped Papa load tools from the barns. They loaded bales of hay and straw. The last belongings that went into the truck were their three buggies. Each one was rolled up the ramp into the back of the trailer. Then Papa closed the doors. Tomorrow morning, they would leave for their new home.

As friends and neighbors said goodbye to Papa and Mama, they said they hoped God would bless them in their new home. Papa thanked them. Lily noticed Mama’s eyes glisten. It made Lily feel a little better to know that Mama was sad about the move too. When Lily said goodbye to Mandy Mast, she was surprised to see a few tears trickle down Mandy’s cheeks.

As buggies rolled out of the driveway, Lily saw Harold and Helen Young’s big car drive toward the house. Harold Young got out of the car and shuffled around a little bit. “We came to say goodbye before you leave. Sorta hate to see you folks go. You were good neighbors.” Reaching into his overalls pocket, he pulled out several lollipops and handed them to Papa. “Thought your kids might like these,” he said in his gruff way.

Why now? Why were people like Harold Young and Mandy Mast so nice now that Lily was moving? It was a mystery.

Helen Young gave Mama a hug. She turned to Lily and Joseph. “I’ll really miss my little milk delivery people. If you ever come back to visit, be sure to stop in. I keep my cookie jar full and it would be nice to enjoy some together again.”

After they waved goodbye to the Youngs, Papa and Uncle Elmer caught the chickens and put them into several big crates. They set them in the back of Uncle Elmer’s buggy. Papa tied Jim to the back of the buggy. He helped Mama up. Then he helped everyone else in. It was crowded in the buggy with Uncle Elmer’s entire family and Mama, Lily, Joseph, and Dannie. Papa would lead Jenny over to Uncle Elmer’s. A man was coming to pick up Papa’s livestock with a cattle trailer. Jim and Jenny and the crates of chickens would get to ride in it all the way to Pennsylvania. Lily was glad the animals would be together. They wouldn’t be lonely.

As Uncle Elmer slapped his horse’s reins, the buggy started down the driveway. Lily peered out the back window. Papa stood there with Jenny, holding her rope. He wasn’t watching them drive away. He was too busy looking at the house and barn. Lily knew he was saying his own goodbye to Singing Tree Farm. And he was not whistling.

Aunt Mary had made a big pot of chili soup for supper. By the time Papa arrived, everyone was ready to eat. Supper was strangely quiet. No one had anything to say. They were feeling too sad to talk.

After everyone had finished, Lily started to help clear the table, but Aunt Mary stopped her. “You don’t have to help with the dishes tonight,” Aunt Mary said. “You will have to get up early tomorrow morning to travel to your new home. I’m sure you want to be ready for such an exciting day. You can sleep with Hannah tonight.”

Lily was happy to not have to do dishes, and even happier to hear she was able to sleep in Hannah’s room. Together, the girls ran up the stairs to get ready for bed. They talked for a little while and then Lily got into bed. It felt different from her own. Too soft. She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable.

After a while, Hannah sat up. “Can’t you sleep?”

“No,” Lily said.

“Here, you can sleep with my bunny tonight.” Hannah handed Lily a lumpy stuffed bunny.

Lily held it. But the bunny didn’t feel right or smell right. She was used to sleeping with Sally, but poor Sally was packed into a box and was somewhere in that big dark trailer. Lily would never get to sleep tonight. Never.

Someone was shaking her shoulder. Lily opened her eyes. Mama was bending over the bed.

“It’s time to go, Lily,” she whispered. “Try to be quiet so you don’t wake Hannah.”

Lily slipped out of bed and grabbed her dress. Mama buttoned the back. Then they tiptoed down the stairs. Joseph and Dannie were already sitting on the sofa in the living room. They looked groggy, as if they just wanted to go back to sleep.

Uncle Elmer came into the house. “Jim and Jenny are loaded. The driver is here with the station wagon. Everything is ready to go.”

Papa had left earlier to meet with the truck driver. Mama said goodbye to Uncle Elmer and Aunt Mary. There was nothing left to do. It was time to go. The longest day was under way, whether Lily was ready or not.

Mama got into the backseat of the station wagon. The cattle trailer was hitched behind it. Lily and Joseph sat next to Mama. Dannie sat in her lap. The driver started the station wagon and drove down the lane. They were on their way. Lily would no longer be Lily of Singing Tree Farm. She wondered what name they might call the new farm.

It was sad to say goodbye to her home—the only home she had ever known. She had been born there, and so had Joseph and Dannie. Jim and Jenny and Chubby had become part of their family there. But Papa said home wasn’t a place. Home, he said, could be carried in your heart.