"I was looking out the window of my dad's car, with my head resting on the glass, returning to where I would not have liked, and the truth is that I don't remember much about this place, after fourteen years; We haven't been here since I was a little girl, they said this can be an opportunity really beautiful; I had to left my house in Boston, because my father had received a new job offer at a high school, and he had decided to bring me with him, in his old but glamorous red car, whom he sometimes treated like a newborn baby, and my old van that was hitched in the back. The good thing about traveling with my dad is that he let me play all the Lana del Rey's music that I wanted, but after these three days locked here, I think anyone would get tired of that; We're on our way to my great-grandmother's old house.
-What's the problem, babe? - My dad asked me.
-I'm just thinking about... - I said without taking my head off the glass. He already knew almost of that story; How I would have preferred to stay with my mom and with Louisa, my great-grandmother...
-But your mother thought this would help you.-
-Help me? With what? I thought you wanted keep me away from this work.-
-I didnt mean that, we thought you could make new friends-.
My parents, especially my dad, taught me very well how to identify idiots, and at my old school it was too full of them, so I didn't have many "friends".
Of all the cities in this blessed country, we were going to L.A. California, where everyone plan to teach me how to make this world a relatively better place, that's what my father promised us after leaving the air force. Now he had his own "program" to distribute, through his own philosophy, what he had learned in a constructive way and do his best, "Alpha Elite" to that school full of stupid bullies and princesses, or, well that's what I've heard him talk about, so that the weakest people stop going home crying.
He had been called in to channel the brute force of those morons into something "good"; In most schools it had worked, I don't see why it wouldn't here. Behind us, you could hear the loud panting of my beautiful baby golden, Jackie, one of my best friends in this last time, a dog that an old family friend had given us when we were in Boston when he was just a puppy, being a little dirty and badly injured. He was the one who told me to name him like that, after his best friend, my great-grandfather. My mother has been working very hard in recent years to be able to open an animal shelter, and name it after the man who inspired my love for animals (and many other things)... Just for later my great-grandmother's health to begin to deteriorate more and more. Currently, the project is on pause, but I promised my parents that we would return, sooner or later.
-I think you should have left him at home-. My dad complained, but he knows how overprotective I can be somethimes (according to him, inherited completely from my mother).
-C'mon, He will be perfectly fine with us- I replied, I thought I deserved it after that sudden exile. -Isn't that right?, my father looked at me quickly, warning me, normally you would expect me to bark or something like that, but I have been training him a lot to allow me to bring him.
-He will help us protect ourselves-. I said as I stroked his head.
-Just don't let him drool on the seats-.
-Yes, sir-. I used to make that joke sometimes, and dad would laugh even though I think deep down he didn't like it, he would try to forget about the air force a little somethimes and try to teach me how to live my life on my own way.
When we finally arrived at our new temporary shelter, I realized that I had misjudged what my great-grandmother said about this place.
I didn't doubt that the valley was that beautiful, but I only heard it from the distant memories of my parents, who had come about seven years ago, I think it was for a funeral (and yes, again, things of death are not my thing).
I took out all my things that I kept carefully in my van, since I knew I would protect them as always, (I think this thing survived the Second World War, LOL) all my clothes, and some inherited from my grandmother (to feel her a little closer to me, as my mother always said), some medals from my father and my great-grandfather, which were considered real diamonds by my parents, "for protection".
Some old bow and arrow, which I'm dying to practice with in my new yard.
Many photos of me, my parents, my great-grandparents, my grandparents... of that sir, Miyagi, and an old newspaper clipping of a boy, friend of my family; who my father evaded the topic every time I asked him, and mom, she was almost always busy to talk. The only one who knew how to tell me anything was Louisa, she said that she met this guy right here, about thirty years ago, but no one trusted her words much anymore, (I think only me, I love hearing her stories) and she didn't remember his name very well; and one of the most important things, the sign I painted with the flowers that we had in Boston, to decorate "home", with our last name, "The McGowen's", because it was either this or painting it on our mailbox, and apparently, we don't have a mailbox here.
My name? Oh, well, you can call me Ann".