After my mother passed away, I thought I knew everything about her life. But a sudden discovery during my journey led to a truth I never expected. What I found changed everything I thought I knew about my past… and my future.
After my mother’s death, I was completely alone. I stood in the empty apartment, the silence around me pressing in. My father left us before I was born.
The walls, once filled with her presence, were bare, stripped of life. “What do I do now, Mom?” I whispered aloud. I always have the answers.
But now… Now it’s just me. I sold the apartment. It was a painful reminder of Mom’s last days, and I couldn’t bear to stay there any longer.
I had a vague plan to head to the small town where she once lived. To my surprise, she had a property there and left it to me. “I’m going there, to where you loved,” I murmured.
I walked through the empty rooms in the apartment one last time and shut the door, locking it for the last time. “Goodbye, Mom,” I whispered, feeling a tear slide down my cheek. Outside, I handed the keys to the real estate agent.
I had nowhere to go. Two suitcases were waiting for me at a hotel. Nothing more.
I glanced at the pile of mail in my hands. Today’s newspaper caught my eye. I flipped through it until a small ad jumped out at me:
“FOR SALE: 1985 RV.
Runs, needs TLC. Priced to sell.”
It was a way to leave everything behind. Without overthinking, I drove straight to the address listed in the ad.
***
The RV sat in a driveway, looking worn and beaten, even more so than I expected. Rust streaked its sides. The paint faded to a dull gray.
But it didn’t matter. It represented freedom to leave that place and pain behind. A gruff man stood beside it, clearly eager to get rid of it.
“You here for the RV?” he asked, glancing at me as I approached. “Yeah,” I said, scanning the vehicle. “I saw the ad.”
“It’s old, but it runs.
Took it out last week. You interested?”
I ran my hand over the chipped paint. It wasn’t perfect, but neither was I.
“How much?”
“Cash only,” he said, naming the price. I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take it.”
“You sure?
You don’t want to look under the hood?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I just need to go.”
Minutes later, the deal was done. I climbed into the RV, the smell of old leather and dust filling my senses as the engine growled to life.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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