On a warm June morning, I stand on the driveway of our house, gripping the handle of my suitcase and appraising the building, lifting a hand to shield my eyes. Mom watches me, her arms crossed over her chest as she sighs. It took a lot of convincing for her to let me go. Moving with no plans to attend school and no job lined up is less than ideal from her perspective, but she understands my reasoning.

“Just like that, both of my girls will be gone,” she says wistfully.

My lips lift in a small smile. “We won’t be far.”

Scout wags her tail, sniffing at my legs persistently, as though she can sense change in the air. I bend over, sinking my fingers into her fur as a breeze toys with my hair. I’m going to miss having her follow me around.

“And you’re absolutely sure about this?”

“Yes, Mom.”

Straightening up again, I pull down the hem of my shorts, nerves twisting in my belly. Though this is what I’ve chosen for myself, I don’t know that I’m making the right decision. I don’t like that my mother will be alone now, but I’m well aware that she’s more than capable of handling herself.

A car pulls into the driveway and I take a deep breath. Bracing myself, I loop my arms around her shoulders, emotion rising to a crest inside of me. We stay that way for a few beats, until the car door slams shut, and I lean back, the end of my nose stinging.

“Take care of yourself,” Mom tells me softly.

“I will.” I reassure her, though I’m not sure if the words are true.

We step apart, and I look over my shoulder to see Mason waiting next to the vehicle, his hands in his pockets.

“Hello, Mason,” Mom says.

He nods his head in greeting. “Hi, Ms. Castillo.”

“You’ve got a long drive ahead of you,” she remarks, sniffling. “See if you can convince her to stay.”

His eyes meet mine. “I’ve been trying.”

I avert my gaze and give my mother one last squeeze before Mason helps me load my things into his car. Doing my best to hold back the tears, I slide into the passenger seat. Mom and Scout remain in the driveway as we back out, and I wave at them until they’re out of sight.

It’s quiet as we round the corner. Mason turns on the radio, and I’m grateful for the background noise. Leaning back against the seat, I watch the familiar scenery pass by outside my window. I haven’t gotten used to what it’s like to have my brain shoved full of memories, both old and new, like I’m remembering the lives of two different people.