Adiós, Wentzville

“Are you going to cry, Collette?”

Both my brothers stared at me with big smiles on their faces as we prepared to leave the old house for the final time. They had been helping Oxbear all day to move everything into the Big House garage for the time being. Theodore and Ansel also participated in the big haul. And now my brothers were curious if there was going to be an emotional meltdown over leaving nine and a half years of memories forever behind us in Wentzville.

“Yeah, Collette, are you going to cry?”

“Well… that is my signature move.”

The boys laughed and finished adding the last few items to both pick-ups outside the house.

Puck was pretty brave himself, taking one last look around all the empty rooms. “This is the only home I’ve ever known,” he said a few times to himself.

Late that afternoon before dinner, Puck burst through the patio door, grasping his knee.

“AHHH!”

“What happened, bud?”

We quickly deduced that a wasp had got him. He sucked it up though, and quickly recovered. Especially after I showed him my own black wasp scar from about ten years ago. Anything with the possibility of a scar is good news to Puck.

“I got bitten by a wasp again!” he announced with satisfaction.

With everything going on, we knew celebrating our anniversary anytime soon wasn’t likely. So, one day early, we took advantage of a Saturday night for just a little while and drove out towards Chesterfield and the St. Louis Bread Co. to watch the storm roll in. And got Silky’s custard on the way back, still watching the light and sound show – sometimes bright white comic book flashes – that continued for hours, late into the night.