Goin Home Monologue

Goin’ Home
You see those clouds up ahead? Just there? Do they look a bit green to you? It’s nothin’, I’m sure. It’s just some thunderstorm rolling in that we’re goin’ to have to drive through. That’s the thing about goin’ cross-country, the weather will sneak up on you at every turn. I’ve seen rain, hail, wind, and not much in the way of clear skies since we left San Diego. I guess I shouldn’t complain. It’s part of the adventure, right? The U-haul was gonna cost like five hundred bucks plus the gas, so I loaded up my Cadillac with everything I could jam into the trunk and half the back seat. I’m sorry if it’s crowded, but that’s what life is like: busy and crowded in by the things that make up who you are. I’m complicated, and so’s my stuff, or so I’m told. I also talk too much, but I like to think that’s a fun little quirk of mine. I’ve lived 20 places in the last 20 years; I’m a gypsy at heart. There are days when I wish I could say I was solid like an oak tree, planted deep with big roots.
I got a great new job, see. It’s with a program for gypsy girls like me who want a good place to raise their kids. Mint green was always my favorite, ever since I first saw that tall man pull up into our driveway when I was 8. I remember the gravel crunching like it was breaking out in applause for his arrival. Those cowboy boots he wore, they were real shiny on the gold tips. I knew he was goin’ be around for a long, long time. Turns out, I was wrong. There’s still this Cadillac, though, so I have that. You see that locket hanging up on the rearview? Got that from my foster mom. I put my sister’s picture in it. Never did get to see her after that, but I had that locket to hold onto. It’s just the same as it was when I stole it. Perfect and silver, on that long chain with the broken clasp. I just tie it in a knot, right there. It holds just