(AN: Warning! Warning! Emotional chapter! You may cry!)
The next Sunday morning came not much different than usual. Avery woke me up jumping on my bed and singing at the top of her lungs until I woke up. I got out of bed after informing her that I shouldn’t be up at this hour. She dragged me over to my dresser and ‘helped’ me decide what to wear. However, true to our word, this morning we woke Zac up as soon as I was dressed.
“Wake up, Zakky-pooh!!!!” Avie yelled as we bounced on opposite sides of his bed.
“Go away,” he mumbled sleepily.
“Not this time, Zac buddy,” I replied. “This time, you get up.”
Avie yanked his blankets off, then I tipped the bed, sending Zac toppling on the floor. He sat up looking dazed.
“What’s your problem??!!” he cried.
“You didn’t get up!!!” Avie accused.
“So, we used ulterior methods to remedy the situation,” I finished.
“Huh?” Zac said in confusion.
“They fixed the problem,” Ike translated. For some odd reason, he had been up before Avie came to bounce all over me. You could tell something big was going on when Ike got up at 6:30.
Zac flopped down on the floor. “I’m tired, leave me alone.”
Avery and I exchanged a devious glance.
“Well, looks like it’s shower time for Zakky!” she squealed happily.
I sighed. “I guess you’re right....”
“NO!” Zac yelled, jumping up off the floor. “I’m up! I’m up!”
Ike, Avie, and I all laughed.
“Well, now, this is a record day,” I commented. “The entire Hanson family is up at 7:15 Sunday morning!”
We passed the time however we could find a way. Every major belonging we had was packed in the moving truck sitting outside our house. We mostly just sat around and talked, but Zac decided that getting up early on Sunday wasn’t so bad after all. After a while, since we had nothing better to do, we took our remaining stuff out to the car and the van. By 9:00 the entire house was clear. We arrived at church the usual fifteen minutes early, and went to our separate classrooms. As people filed in to Ike’s and my class and we greeted each other, we could immediately feel a heaviness in the air. It had finally sunk in for everyone what was about to happen.
The class went along as usual until the very end, when a special prayer was requested for my family, for a safe trip and a good settlement. I battled with tears as we formed our prayer circle, and every one individually prayed for us. I could hear the pain and crying around me, and I felt my shoulders begin to shake with sobs. God, why is this happening?? I don’t wanna leave these people!
When we finally finished, everyone in the classroom was crying and hugging me and Ike. It was almost too much to bear.
The morning service went so ironically almost exactly the same, it wasn’t even funny. Dad got through the sermon fine, but I could hear the heavy emotion in his voice as he talked at the end about leaving, what we were going to be doing, and how much we would miss this church and be praying for them. He was so emotionally drained that he had to ask one of the deacons to pray at the end as our whole family walked to the back to form the last reception line we would ever do at this church. There was a feeling of dread and uncertainty as I wondered what lay ahead. I had never known anything but Tulsa. Dad had been pastor at Tulsa Baptist since he completed seminary. I couldn’t even picture another way of life - not having all the same people, the same friends, around me every day. I felt like my whole life was being removed from my grasp. I idly hugged people, said good-byes, and accepted tissues. I was in a daze, hardly believing it was really happening.
“Yo, Tay, snap out of it!” Andy’s voice jolted me out of my idle daze.
“Hey man,” I managed to force out quietly. Andy was the person outside my family that I was closest to; we had been best friends for twelve years, and lived next door to each other for sixteen.
I watched his eyes fill with tears until my own vision blurred his face beyond recognition, and I found myself hugging him and crying. I thought about all the times we had played tag, hung out in the treehouse, and talked about crushes, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like not to be able to call him up and say, “Meet me in the treehouse in five minutes, we need to talk.”
We broke apart and he looked down awkwardly. “Can we meet in the treehouse after church?” he proposed, looking back up. “For old times’ sake.”
“I’ll be there,” I agreed, forcing a smile.
With that, my idle daze continued. I hardly noticed the tears that streamed down my face. All I noticed were the tens of people who wiped them away, who I knew I was going to miss so much. Young, old, middle-aged - those I knew well, those I hardly knew at all - they were all such a part of my life. That half-hour seemed like it took five minutes, and we were on the road back to our house. When we got home I immediately jumped out of the van and ran to the treehouse. I climbed up the ladder and found Andy already there, staring into space.
We sat in silence for a few minutes before I dared to speak. “Well, I guess this is the last time we’ll ever hang out here,” I surmised. “Seems kinda like the end of my childhood.”
He nodded. “This is like half my life being taken away.”
“Dude, I didn’t realize you were that dependent on me,” I joked.
He rolled his eyes at me and grinned. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your ego inflated.”
Our mood turned serious again.
“This is so weird,” he murmured. “I mean, you’ve always been there, we’ve pretty much always been best friends - I can’t even imagine what it’s gonna be like without you.” His frightened eyes met mine. “To be quite honest, I don’t wanna know!”
“Yeah, well, that’s life I guess,” I responded. “Life sucks.”
“Thank-you, Mr. Optimistic!!!” he cried.
I laughed. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“That it is,” he confirmed. “We can still keep in touch. This many years of friendship can’t be destroyed by your absence.” He grinned. “We both got e-mail! As long as you got e-mail, you can count on me keepin’ in touch.”
I shook my head, smiling. That was so Andy. “I believe it, dude.”
“TAYLOR!!!” I heard Mom call from the driveway.
Andy and I exchanged a grave look. “Well,” I commented, “This is it. Life goes on.”
“And sucks,” he added.
“You are so right.”
We climbed down the ladder and hugged each other one more time.
“See ya around, Tay,” he spoke automatically.
“Sometime, Andy,” I replied, my voice choking up.
He turned and walked back to his house, pausing at the door to wave. Then he disappeared inside.