"New Address" by Dylan Furbay
Photo by Nikola Knezevic on Unsplash
Dear Neighbor,
I apologize that I've made no introduction. I realize that you've only ever seen us through the windshield and now I'm leading a Labrador past your mailbox. We came on our decision to move just recently:
It was after the holidays with a friend spent behind the grass, safely in the circuit of a garden fence. Our suburban stint swelled until our respite reached its end. After we finished the last barbecue and shut the grill a final time, we were back en route to the city, to the pavement seas that break along the high rise buildings and flow between the beltway.
Speeding towards the city, our eyes prayed for rest stops: somewhere to pee, to eat gummy candies, to compare the calories on energy drinks. Yet, the golden arches and gas prices all hid behind crowds of chimneys. That, or they just weren't there at all.
It was six am on the seventh early morning of the sort, and we were still spiraling along the curling cul-de-sacs—connected by corner-lots and speed bumps, lined with pristine concrete sidewalks and chic recycling bins. Even as the sun dozed off and the streetlamps awakened, we still weaved through those slow roads, following threads to a raggedy knot that didn't seem worth trying to untie.
In the sunrise hours of sleep, I executed some delirious U-turn and pulled towards your curb to finally rest my hanging eyes. Thinking back, it must have been alarming to find us reclined in our seats that morning.
We’d find ourselves on that curb more and more frequently, stumbling upon the shining 'for sale' sign while still trying to follow the paths of daydreams. For a while, I'd sing "Somewhere That's Green", and we'd both smile until my voice cracked on the whole notes —"Far from Skid Row, I dreamed we'd go..."
Now, our minds have bailed out on the metropolitan and we are settled on the other side of that curb. We'd appreciate your visit. We aren't too hard to find; the mailbox is white, the door is red, the fence is a honey-maple stained pine. As far as we know, we are the only home with that combination.
Best,
Us
Dylan Furbay is a current high school junior at Landon School in Bethesda, MD. He enjoys writing, drawing, painting, piano, and the occasional sewing project. At school, he is proud to run cross country and track, edit for his school's literary journal Prometheus Unbound, and help lead the Asian Student Association and Pride Club.