'Fuzzy' By Jane Smiley: A Narrative Fiction

I heaved the large and surprisingly heavy box of DVDs and CDs into the back of our 1997 4runner. The strong, southern sun beat down through the ancient oak tree’s branches above as we finished packing the car. The day had been slow, and I could feel a throbbing soreness in my arms from continuously lifting objects into the moving truck earlier that day. I couldn’t, and didn’t want to believe that we would soon be leaving the world I had always known. I glanced back at our ranch and the barn that stood nearby. I saw the chipped paint on the fences surrounding our huge yard, filled with long grass and Georgia dirt. It was finally happening. I would likely never see “our” ranch again. I pushed the thought away as I concentrated on the task at hand. I tried to
shift the box to fit among the others, but to no avail, my efforts were futile.
“Well, I believe this’ll be the last of it,” Mama said, as she shuffled around the car holding another box, this time filled with baby toys, many of which I had played with when I was younger. Now, the majority of them had been passed down to Tilly, who was eager to play with any new toy in sight. She waddled behind Mama, trying to grasp a teddy bear who was falling from the box. I was getting impatient as I struggled to fit the box in the trunk. I took a step back as Mama miraculously shifted my box so that it fit and placed hers in after it. She always seemed to have magical powers when it came to making things right. I sighed in exasperation. Tilly, who was still eyeballing the teddy bear, looked at me with frantic eyes as Mama began to shut the door of the car. Something inside compelled me to fulfill Tilly’s wish. “Wait a second.” I peered into the box of toys as Mama put her hands on her hips and waited. When I found the teddy bear, I turned to a very excited Tilly, who eagerly reached out to me with chubby arms. I knelt down beside her, so we were eye to eye. “This bear, was very special to me,” I explained as Tilly watched, wide-eyed.
“His name is Fuzzy, and you have to promise to take good care of him, alright?” She nodded, her curly pigtails bobbing along. I handed Fuzzy to her and she immediately placed him carefully in the front pocket of her overalls. I couldn’t help but give a smile as she ran back towards Mama, shouting, “Looky! Looky!”.
I walked back through the soft grass, stepping onto the little pathway that led to our back door. I opened the screen door, walking into our old living room; though, it was more like looking into a room I had never seen before. It was vacant, missing our various pieces of furniture that had lived and entertained us for years. The red, comfy couch no longer sat against the wall, inviting us to sit down. Our bookshelves, full of stories and fairytales that Mama would read to me, were gone, in some moving truck on its way to Indiana at that very moment. And lastly, our ancient family clock, the one that had been passed down for multiple generations, was absent from its place on the mantle. If I thought hard enough, I could remember and imagine the laughter of people and the aroma of southern cooking all throughout the
room.
I was shaken from my thought from Mama, who had walked into the room shortly after me. She had grabbed our old broom and was preparing to sweep the porch one last time, even though it had been swept multiple times beforehand. She had her own ways of coping with the inevitable change yet to come.
“Hannah? I think there is one more box in your room sweetie.” I looked back up at her, still standing in the middle of the room. She kept my gaze, her green eyes searching through my own. She knew exactly what I was trying to say.
“Oh Hannah. I know you don’t want to leave.. neither do I. I’m going to miss this house.” She said as she took a shaky breath. “And our yard… and the summer sunshine.. and the… and the.” Before she could finish her sentence she was crying, wrapping her comforting arms around me. I let the tears fall as we stood there, in the midst of a