The car settled as Jane threw the last of the luggage atop the staggering pile. She grabbed the rope, tightening it over the roof of the car. The small Pruis sagged under the weight of the three tattered suitcases. It seemed as if the car was playing a balancing act as it adjusted under the weight. Jane looked at it, cocking her head to one side. Each of the suitcases looked as if they could tumble off at any moment. Jane reached her hands up, adjusting the suitcases slightly. They barely budged. Jane retracted her hand and opened the car door. Stopping for a second before she got in, Jane looked up at the house in front of her. The house was small; the yard smaller. The siding desperately needed some new paint. It had been vibrant yellow when they had first bought it. Now, the chips in the paint were visible even from ten feet away, where Jane stood at the car. On the walkway, besides the cracked and damaged brick, sat a line of flowers–sunflowers. Each of them was triumphantly tall and almost towered over the single-story house. An air conditioner whirled in the distance. The house seemed to retain some of its former glory, even in the insufferable August weather. Jane slid into the passenger’s seat, her mom in the driver’s. 

“You ready?” her mom asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Jane.

They backed up the long driveway and began driving down the all too familiar street. It had never changed. Their neighbor’s siding remained covered with horrific greenish moss that had been there for close to ten years. It seemed they had never even noticed it or maybe it was something they just ignored. There were only ten houses on the street, each separated by a long driveway. There was uniformity in their appearance but each had its own unique touch. The Chen’s had about ten garden gnomes lining their walk; Priscilla’s cats lined each of the windows, bathing in the sun. Passing the Kogan’s, Jane noticed the leaves starting to fall from the tree in their front yard. It was always the first one to lose its leaves. On the corner sat the book trade. A green, oversized birdhouse with books piled up tediously inside. 

“Why did I never use it?” Jane said aloud.

“Use what?” her mother asked.

“The book trade, it seems like such a good idea. Why didn’t I use it?” Jane began to get flushed. She sighed heavily. 

Her mom looked over at her. “You don’t have to be upset about it being neglected,” she laughed.

Their car passed under a narrow tunnel. On the other side lay the town square. The August weather meant farmers’ markets. Out her window, Jane could see the entire expanse of the town. To her left lay a row of shops. Each one was tidily manicured with a pristine white awning on the front. She looked out the window: watching the vendors beginning to set up for the market. Each one took such pride in their goods. The vegetable man, whose name she could never remember, was setting up. She placed her hand on the window, silently mouthing various names. The stone bell tower to her right began to chime. It was only seven o’clock. 

“Mom, can we stop for a second?” Jane began.

“Why?” her mom said, concentrating on the road.

Her mom stopped at a stop sign then looked over at Jane. She was crying. 

“What’s wrong, Jane?”

Jane attempted to compose herself but only more tears began to well up in her eyes. She looked away from her mom and out the window. She saw Ellie opening the coffee store across the street. Ellie waved gently. Jane lifted her hand only partially waving back. 

“I don’t think I can leave,” Jane sighed.

“Sure you can,” her mom said. “You’re going to rock it at college. I just know it.”

“That’s not it,” Jane said. “Everything is going to be different.”

Her mom leaned over a little and took Jane’s face in her hands, wiping the tears off her face. 

“I know it feels bad now, but you need to do this. Get out in the world.”

Jane pulled back. She stared at her mom.

“Are you even going to miss me when I’m gone?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Why do you feel such a desperate need for me to leave?”

“I don't. I just think it would be good for you.”

“How do you know what would be good for me?” Jane said, slightly irritated.

“I’ve known you your whole life,” her mother said, pushing back.

Jane stopped. It wasn’t worth fighting with her mother on their last day together. Jane looked down. She clutched her legs and tensed up her hands, then let out a sigh.

“Can we get out for a second?” Jane asked.

“Sure,” her mom said.

Jane’s mom parked the car. At seven o’clock, the only people roaming the streets were vendors. One of them waved to her; she waved back despite not having any idea who it was. It was just one of those towns. Someone would wave to someone else, even if they had absolutely no clue who it was. 

Her mom pushed a few quarters into the parking meter.

“You know you don’t have to do that. No one ever checks them,” Jane remarked.

Her mom pushed two more quarters into the meter. “I know, it’s just a nice way to support the town.”

“Do you think that everybody will be nice at college?” Jane pondered aloud.

“Probably not,” her mother said honestly. “This is a unique town. Don’t get used to places being like this. It took me a long time to find somewhere as nice as here.”

Jane and her mother walked down the sidewalk to the coffee shop. It had always been their go-to place. They loved the irony because neither of them liked drinking coffee. The pastries barely resembled or tasted like anything edible, but outside the back door, there were a few tables that had a gorgeous view of the lake. In the fall they would go there every weekend. The falling leaves would drift into the water, almost covering it. In the morning, it was especially beautiful, everything seemed to shimmer. Time even got slower. 

“I’m sorry mom,” Jane said.

“For what?” her mom asked.

“For yelling at you. And,” Jane paused. “For not telling you where I was going sooner.”

Her mom leaned over and wrapped her in a half, sideways hug. Jane felt a few tears drip onto her jacket.

“I’m sorry too,” her mom said. She was crying, only gently. The tears streamed down her face.

Only a month ago Jane had received the email. It was in her inbox, taunting her. She was so nervous she didn’t even open it for days. When she finally had, the news had come as a shock. It wasn’t until her third read-through that she believed it: she had gotten in. She had told her mom that day. Her mother had seemed cautiously happy. That night, however, Jane had heard her gently crying through the wall between their rooms.

“You know I never thought I’d get in. It seemed so impossible. I felt like I didn’t even need to tell you.” Jane looked at her mother. Her mother wiped her face.  She had stopped crying.

“You should believe in yourself some more, you know,” her mom said. “If you’re going to keep up with all those people at your fancy college you’re going to need to have a little confidence.” Her mom nudged her, jokingly.

“I know,” Jane said, sheepishly.

“Even if you hadn’t gotten in, we wouldn’t have been disappointed in you. You should have just shared it with me. I mean, you shouldn’t have had to burden that suspense all alone. I would have been there for you no matter what the outcome,” her mom trailed off.

Her mother’s eyes stayed glued to the ground for a split second. She threw her head up, pinching her nose slightly. Then her mother sighed gently, looking Jane straight in the eyes. They held eye contact for a second. 

Her mom opened the door; they had arrived at the coffee shop. “Let’s go in.” 

 Jane looked down at her watch. It was seven-thirty. Jane stopped at the door to the coffee shop. Her mom pushed the door open. Jane didn’t move. The last time they had been there was in June. Jane had just graduated. That day she couldn’t doubt the pride her mom had for her. Her mother had been beaming. Everyone who walked by their table had seemed to notice. Jane hadn’t minded; it felt nice to be admired.  

“Do you want to go in?” her mom asked.

“It’s ok,” Jane said.

“Ok,” her mom said. She looked up at the town clock. “We might as well get going then.”

They walked back to their car and crammed themselves in the front seat. Jane looked at her mom, hurriedly backing up into the street. Her mom stopped the car, looking over at Jane. Jane examined her face. It seemed that the pride still hadn’t dulled.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Jane said, confidently.

In an hour she was on the plane. The elbow of the man sitting next to her continually pushed up against her as he heaved. Jane stared out the tiny window. As the plane took off, everything became small, almost meaningless. Jane examined the landscape below. Each house, barely visible, looked the same.