The sound of metal scraping against itself was loud as shards of it were swept from the bed of an old red truck into a steel garbage can. Her hands worked constantly, almost mechanically, sweeping, sweeping, sweeping the memories away, all her fathers work left undone, never to be finished.
Thrown away.

Her mother watched from the kitchen window.

When all but a few tiny flakes of metal remained, Sawyer "Goldenwinged" Odisark slammed the back hatch closed and secured the faulty door with a few bungee hooks. Sighing, she dusted the dirt and grime from her jeans and hauled the garbage can back to the garage. Her belongings were waiting just inside the doorway.

As she swung open the screen door her mother leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, looking at her with pursed lips and a concerned expression, deepening her wrinkles borne from all this stress of the passing of her husband. Her tousled hair put up in a bun that morning hung over her face in grey strands.

"You can't take that truck, Sawyer." She finally mumbled, "It's your father's. He might need it."

"Mother," Sawyer started exasperatedly, "Dad is dead. This is the tenth time you've said this. This is the only part of him on this earth that I have left. He's... dead, he doesn't need it..." an ominous lump in her throat started forming around her words, so she stopped talking. She didn't want to break down crying for the hundredth time today.
Without a word, her mother turned on a heel and walked slowly back into the kitchen. She needed help. Sawyer tried to take her to a psychiatrist, but she wouldn't have any of it. She'd rather live in these false memories she created for herself, to pretend that her husband didn't die, that Sawyer wasn't moving out, that everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.

Sawyer continued down the hall into her bedroom, almost bare of all things that may have told that someone lived there. Her furniture still stood, dust-formed borders around places that things once occupied. There was still a whisper of a trace of Vipin's bracelet being there by her nightstand. She remembered the times they laid entwined on her bed, without anything to worry them. Her heart hurt. Old regrets started to eat away at her thoughts, and without another glance back at her old room, she quickly trotted back to her suitcases.

The letter sat atop one of her suitcases, with the address of her new apartment in Arizona. It'd be fine to live in temporarily, once he brought in enough money teaching, she'd get a house somewhere near the hole-in-the-wall school that needed teachers badly, who called her in for the job. And she needed to get out of here, to get away from the memories, the ghosts of her regret, haunting her for leaving Vipin. She had to get away from it all, live on a lonely road in the desert and just forget. She knew she wouldn't, though.

Grabbing both large suitcases by the frayed handles, she hoisted them out of the door and into the passengers seat of the truck. It was a red 1987 Ford F-350 that belonged to her now, so this thing was huge. It could probably take her whole bedroom set, if she really wanted to get out the tarps and the extra thick bungees to keep it all in place. But she'd rather play it safe and have a moving truck bring it all down there. She just hoped this old rustbucket would hold out all right in a cross country drive. Right now she had her clothes and essentials, that'd hold her over for the week or two it'd take to get the rest of her stuff there.

Three dogs had escaped the breezeway and came out to bid her farewell, their tails waving madly. She wanted to take them, but her apartment wouldn't allow large animals. Besides, they would keep her mother company. Her mother wanted to stay here, where they both spread her father's ashes on their lonely little mountainside. It was what he would have wanted. It felt unsettling to both Sawyer and her mother to sell this house and let some strange family move in while her father remained there. It seemed so silly, but it meant a lot to both of them.

Entering their house for the last time, Sawyer walked slowly into the kitchen, standing beside her mother.

"So... this is it." She said resolutely, "I'll uh, call you when I find a hotel somewhere in between."

Her mother nodded silently.

Sawyer arched her arms around her mother's small body in a tight hug. They remained there for several minutes and broke apart.
"I'll miss you." Sawyer said around a hint of tears, "Take care of yourself. Are you sure you don't want to find a place out there?"

"I'm sure. I'd rather stay here with your father, until I see him again." She dropped her arms to her sides in a resigned gesture, and smiled up at her daughter. "And youuuu take care of yourself!" she brought one finger up to poke her in the nose, an old thing she used to do when Sawyer was little.
Sawyer giggled, sniffing back her tears.

"I'll come and visit every summer." Sawyer said with a final smile, hugging her mother again quickly and walking out the door.

"We'll see about that! I might be in Florida with the rest of the old cronies! I'll tell your father to get some real estate there when he gets out of work today!" Her mother called out to her.


With a final smile, Sawyer climbed into the tall old truck with the mismatched bed. Looking at the dust covered earth, grass still dead from that winter, she mumbled, "G'bye, Dad."

Slamming the door, she eased on the clutch and threw the truck into reverse, to face a long winding road that'll take her away from the memories, but never cure her of them.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.


{{may write more, dunno.}}