Moving Van

Cliched though it may be, it is true that all good things come to an end. One's fondest hope is that the end of one good run is but the beginning of an even better one.

Over the past six years, we have elevated ourselves to the point that we are able to rent a moving van, and thus we do not have to rely on borrowing a farm truck. So the truck is backed up to the front porch steps and the loading process gets underway. Our possessions are not sufficient in bulk to require a second trip, especially since we are able to get our clothing into the trunk of the automobile. We are leaving Loonville behind to take up residence in Perfect.

The attempt to find a rental property in our new "hometown" led to a certain degree of frustration. The real tooth-grinder was the following conversation on the telephone.

Runner of the Newspaper Ad (Hereafter designated "RNA"): Hello!

I: Good morning. My name is Vanilla (or perhaps I used my real name) and we are planning to move into this community. I understand you have a house to rent.

RNA: Yes, sir, I have. May I ask what you do for a living?

I: I am a teacher and I have been hired by your local school board to teach math at the junior high school.

RNA: I see. Well, Vanilla, this house is located on Green Street, which is a pretty desirable location. Teachers tend to be transient and unreliable, so I think I shall have to let the place to someone else. But thank you for calling.

I wish I were making this up. But sometimes the most aggravating experiences are blessings in disguise-- deep disguise sometimes, as in this case. We did find a suitable place-- less than a block from Green Street. As it turned out, we eventually bought the house and lived in it for twenty-two years. Then they let me move to Green Street.

Loonville faded into the distance in the rear view mirrors as the vehicle smoothly cruised between the walls of corn on either side of the road. We were moving ahead, forward into the Perfect phase of our lives.

© 2010 David W. Lacy