"Watch carefully, the magic that occurs, when you give a person just enough comfort, to be themselves."
– Harper Lee, To Kill A Mockingbird
Finally. The day had arrived.
"I wish you'd get some proper technology out there," mom said, fussing with my shirt. There wasn't much that could go wrong with a plain black t-shirt, but apparently I had left my tag sticking out, embarrassing the entire family in the process. Sorry, gramps. "I guess it'll just be letters between us until you can get a phone or something. Internet would be even better."
"Yup, letters will have to suffice." I for one was glad that our communications would be confined to letters. "I'll just be four hours away anyway."
My mom held back a sob with a quiet sniffle.
"Well, good-bye, sport," my dad said, patting me on the head. He looked more worried than anything else.
I sighed. "Oh come on, dad." I opened my arms and we gave each other one last hug.
"Me too," my mom insisted, fluttering over.
"Of course," I reached over and included her in our hug. In this moment, I could almost feel grandpa here with us. I could almost feel him smile, watching us, the wrinkles around his eyes bunching up. I took a moment to compose myself.
We separated and I watched my parents walk to our car – their car. They got in and rolled down their windows.
"Good-bye, dear," my mom called and waved. A tear trickled down her face.
I waved back. "Bye!" I watched the car scoot away and join the mess of cars hurtling down Main Street. The city felt like a machine sometimes, and this was one of those times. It marched on, alive, refusing to stop for any good-byes or emotion.
The bus station was virtually empty. I already had my ticket and my belongings had already been moved out to the farm so there was nothing but to wait. I tried to focus on the moment, to try and remember all the sights and sounds around me. Lights, pollution, noise, people – I was trading those all in for some fresh air, tranquillity, and nature. Time would tell if it was a fair trade or not.
Boarding time came soon enough. The driver was a gruff blonde who took my ticket without any remarks. Fine by me. I was the sole rider headed to Stardew Valley. I took one last look around me before stepping inside.
The bus ride was uneventful, but scenic. Mom and I had done the drive there and back the past four weeks. Four weekends of four hour drives, there and back. It was only four hours, I reminded myself. If shit hit the fan there, I was only four hours away from my parents and the city.
The highway wasn't busy – Stardew Valley wasn't a prime destination for tourism, though it had a certain charm that was undeniable. It just happened to fall off people's radar when it came to weekend getaways from the city. There was some sort of fair out here in the fall, wasn't there? That was probably their peak tourism season. I wondered briefly when I would next be on this highway.
The four hours went by slowly, punctuated by a sense of dread in my stomach and the peaks of the mountains surrounding us. Was I making the right choice? Another hour passed and my dread was gone, replaced once more with hope. Of course this was the right choice. Within another half hour, I was back to remorse.
We passed the last highway sign before hitting the valley – 0.5 miles to go. I was excited and upset all at once. My gaze lingered on the sign, unsure if I really wanted to be seeing the back of it.
It was apparent that we were in the valley now. Mountains loomed around us on all sides, though I knew there was an ocean nearby, just south of Pelican Town. The bus went up a hill and suddenly I could see the town below. It was no Zuzu City, that's for sure, but seeing it eased my trepidation some, all the same.
The air in the bus crackled as the bus driver turned on her PA. "We are approaching our - holy shit!"
Suddenly, the bus veered to the right, hit a bump, and swerved left to compensate. There was a terrible sound, and I heard the brakes being hit hard. Lovely, I had only just gotten here, and the place was already trying to kill me. Mom would be beyond upset.
We came to a stop not far from the designated bus stop, and I rushed to get out. Smoke had begun to billow from under the hood of the bus. I saw the bus driver pop it open and pour a can of beer inside. I had no words to describe my thoughts.
"Hi, I'm Robin." I turned from watching the bus driver destroy the engine to see a middle-aged woman with auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. She smiled tentatively at me.
"Hello," I replied, still unsure how to play off my bewilderment as normalcy.
"I'm so excited to meet you! Everyone is, actually. A new farmer joining the community could mean a lot to us. We're so small, and everyone knows about your arrival." She stopped to take a breath. "Anyway, I'm the local carpenter. I'm sure we'll be doing business together at some point."
"Great, yeah, I'm sure we will." I tried to ignore the smell of beer and burning coming from behind me.
"Mayor Lewis is at your place now. He's been tidying up, putting the finishing touches on things." She beckoned for me to follow as she walked down a worn path away from the town. "He used to know your grandfather so he really wanted to make sure it was homey."
"Oh, that was really unnecessary," I began, but stopped as we approached the property and saw the mayor - a moustachioed, grandfatherly man. He waved us over.
"Hi, I'm Mayor Lewis, mayor of Pelican Town." He extended a hand and I shook it. "It's a pleasure seeing you again, it seems like quite a while ago when you came down here with that deed from your grandfather."
I nodded. "Yes, over a month ago."
"Well, I'll have you know, I've been tidying up the place. It seems you already have furniture in there, but I did some dusting and left a little something for you inside." He smiled kindly.
I bowed my head. "Thank you, that's very kind."
He waved a hand. "No need, the pleasure's all mine. It's a rustic little cottage, but it cleans up nicely."
"It could really do well with an upgrade or two," Robin chimed in.
Mayor Lewis snorted. "Don't listen to her, she just wants your money. She'd be the one doing the upgrading," he explained.
I laughed nervously. Robin looked peeved, and I could feel fatigue start to settle itself into my body.
The mayor seemed to sense my tiredness. "Well, I guess we'll leave you to it. There will be plenty of time tomorrow to chat and for you to meet everybody. They really are excited to meet you."
"Great." I let out some more nervous laughter. "I'll see you both around, then."
The mayor nodded and headed back towards the town. Robin cast a glance at me and left as well, her chin lifted slightly.
I was alone now. I looked up at my grandfather's house – my house. It had taken mom and I four weekends to fix up the inside and make it liveable, but apparently the mayor had thought it incomplete still and invited himself over to gussy it up. I tried for a moment to imagine something like that happening in the city, but struggled and gave up. I already had experienced my first case of culture shock. It hadn't gone too badly. I entered my house.
The gift from the mayor must have been the box on the floor just in front of me. I contemplated opening it now, but decided to save it for tomorrow morning. I desperately wanted to unwind and could not handle any more surprises now. Aside from the box, the place looked much as we had left it.
The work that mom and I had done had left the place in a clean condition, but certainly not like-new, and the mayor's work had not improved it any further. Everything was old wood and it showed. A small TV sat in the corner, and a fireplace loomed in the other. A houseplant from my parents' house sat by the front door along with an old rug my mom had dug out of our basement. My bed was against a wall in its own corner, and a small wooden table with a chair completed the space. It wasn't much, but it was mine.
I went over to the fireplace and sat down in front of it. I fumbled with the matches in my jeans pocket, but managed to ignite it. Memories of summer and winter vacations with grandpa flooded my mind. There had been many happy times here in my youth, helping out with harvests, and shaking bushes for berries. It all looked so familiar, and yet felt sublimely different. Grandpa had left a mark here, but it was faded and worn. There was just a bud, just a whisper of change that was me, trying to get a grasp on it all.
I had run away from the city, wanting to escape the mundane, the quotidian. There was more to life than sitting at a desk, being ordered around like a lackey, being seen as nothing more than another resource. Joja Corp had robbed me of my life, and now I wanted it back, to feel whole, to fill the void in my heart. This move was the right thing to do.
I had a vision for this place. I would restore this house and clear this land. I would fill it with crops, and animals of all kinds. And I would be a part of a community.
From my spot on the floor, I could see the sky through the window, past the trees, past the property line. The sun was in the process of setting, and the sky was a gradient of purple, pink, and blue. Spring was just on the cusp of arriving.
I shuffled over to the table and reached up to grab my journal from the table. I brought it closer to the fire, being careful of the loose embers that threatened to catch fire. I opened my journal to the first page. It wouldn't hurt to start tasking things out for the coming season.
I had spoken briefly to the mayor when mom and I had first come with the deed, and at that time he had told me there were 28 people currently living in Pelican Town. I decided right then and there what my first task would be: meeting all of the townsfolk. I traced out my 28 checkboxes and left room for names. I already knew Lewis and Robin, so those could be checked off right away.
A bubble of excitement gurgled inside me. This was it. This was the beginning of my new life.
It wasn't quite night yet, but I was feeling exhausted from the long bus ride and the socialization. I quickly checked the weather report for tomorrow – sunshine all day – and settled into my bed. It'd be best to get an early start tomorrow, I reckoned. That's what real farmers did, right? It was going to be tough adapting to that kind of a schedule, but I was committed. I was a farmer now.
"Don't worry, gramps," I murmured, yawning. "I'll make you proud."
I could've sworn I saw the evening's first star twinkle in response.