A New Home by Cyndi Woods

In a neighborhood that was really no different than any other, was a girl living a life she wished she could change. Each day she went to school trying to complete her final year with honors. She would often linger at that school when she should have been on her way home. She knew that when she returned there, the work would begin and not stop until she dropped into bed that night. Since her parent’s divorce and her mom taking off to do her own thing, her Father tended to blame her for the mess their lives had become. She too felt responsible for her mother walking out. If she hadn’t left her things strewn about the house or helped with laundry more and the cooking, maybe her mother wouldn’t have felt trapped into caring for a family and home. But then wasn’t that what a good mother does? She came to understand the lack of appreciation for doing everything around the house. After all, her dad told her often enough that she wasn’t doing a good enough job around the place.

She couldn’t stay at school the whole night so she walked the two miles home and tried to quietly enter the house in the hopes she would have just a few more minutes before her father discovered that she was home. Unfortunately he was in the kitchen when she came in the back door.  “Good, you finally decided to come home and get this work done!” her father barked holding up a list of things he wanted her to do. “But dad I have a lot of homework tonight.” She explained, hoping for once he would cut her some slack from chores. “Well then I guess you better not be lazy sitting around and get to work.” He snapped.

Taking her things to her room, she spared herself only a brief trip to the bathroom and washed up to prepare dinner. She passed through the living room back to the kitchen and glanced for just a second at her father sitting in the recliner, feet propped up watching television. “Why can’t he ever do any chores around here to help out?” she thought bitterly to herself. Getting out the necessary items to make chicken soup, she dreamed of having a different life. Oh, she never minded cooking or taking care of a home but it was so difficult to manage all that and school as well. Especially for her father who never encouraged her or helped her in any way. Wasn’t a father supposed to care for and provide for his child? She was the one caring for her able bodied father. She fantasized that she was making this meal for her husband and children. Slipping into a day dream, she imagined a lovely two story home where her three children were playing out in the fenced in back yard with the dog. As she looked out the dingy window of the kitchen, she could almost hear the squeals and barks of her fantasy family. A garden would be in full harvesting readiness and she could see herself going out and clipping thyme and oregano, among other spices, for the delicious meals she would make every night. Her imagination went to a husband who adored her and loved to help her with cooking and caring for the family. She could see him pulling up in the drive and getting out of his truck. After greeting the rowdy gang outside, he would come through the back door and with a Ricky Ricardo accent he would say “Lucy I’m home!”. Then he would sweep her into an embrace and tell her that he missed her that day.

“Is dinner almost ready?” her father bellowed from the living room shattering her thoughts. With a sigh and a quicker chopping motion she replied “Soon.” Putting everything together and setting it to simmer for a time, she took out her books and attempted to get some homework done. Her father entered the kitchen and scolded her for sitting around when there was at least four loads of laundry waiting for her. Glancing up from her physics book she said “I know but I told you I had a lot of homework tonight.”. She was hoping he would start a load while she was working but he only barked a response of “Well I need clothes for work tomorrow”. Then he returned to his spot in the living room. Shaking her head, she resigned herself to the fact that he would only keep reminding her if she didn’t start a load of laundry. Setting her pencil on her notebook at the table, she went to the laundry room just off the kitchen. Flipping on the light she saw the number of loads she would have to do. “I have to finish my homework this time,” she thought. She decided to sift through and find only the absolute essentials for tomorrow and only do that load tonight. Dragging out the hampers, she emptied their contents onto the floor and began separating what was needed. After making the selections, she put them to washing and returned to the kitchen to check the soup. It smelled glorious. Lifting the lid of the big stock pot, she added a little salt and tasted her creation. With a smile of satisfaction and a wish that she and her own family would be enjoying this, she announced to her father that it was ready. “Finally! Bring me a bowl,” he demanded. Dropping the lid with a loud clang she went to the doorway and hands on hips said “Can’t you even get your own soup?” flinching as the words left her mouth. Rarely did she display frustration for her father’s helplessness but she simply couldn’t deal with it tonight. With a loud and heavy sigh, he smacked his hands down on the arms of the chair and hoisted himself out of it. “I’ve never seen anyone so lazy!” he snapped pushing past her to get a bowl.

Standing with her arms folded but saying nothing, she waited for him to clear out before getting her own bowl. Yanking open the silverware drawer, he snatched up a spoon and slammed the drawer shut. Grabbing a drink and a napkin, he exited the room. Dropping her arms and with much quieter movements, she ladled up her soup then gently opened the drawer again, retrieving her own spoon. Sitting down at the table, she wrote out physics problems with one hand while spooning up soup with the other. After her father ordered more soup and she got it so as to not create more tension, she went to the laundry room again to place the clothes in the dryer. She had been able to finish her physics work but still had two chapters to read in that novel for literature class. She didn’t mind that particular homework. She loved to read in bed at night to help her fall asleep. She could escape for a time and enter into whatever one she happened to be reading about. Tonight she would visit Ireland. She truly hoped she would be able to go there some day. But for the time being, she would visit only in her imagination. After putting away the soup in the refrigerator and washing the dishes, she folded and put away the laundry she had done. “The clothes you need for tomorrow are on your bed. I’ll finish the rest tomorrow,” she explained to her half sleeping father still in the chair. “Fine. Whatever,” he replied with no interest. Saying nothing more, she gathered her things to go up to bed.