Eighteen>>>The Biggest Mistake Of My Life
Taylor Hanson- Jenks Boys Soccer- 1992
I examine my soccer trophies as I take them down off my dresser shelf. I�ve won platinum records and MTV awards but for some reason those are awards are stashed in a box in my dad�s office. Instead, I display my grade school soccer trophies in my room. I run my finger over my engraved name on the trophy and wipe the dust onto my jeans.
�Taylor,� my mom says from the bedroom doorframe, �I set some dinners for you on the counter to take with you to your new place. Don�t forget them.�
It�s funny. A couple weeks ago when I had no intentions of moving out on my own I wandered into the kitchen begging my mother to cook my breakfast.
�You�re older than I was when I got married and started cooking every night. Cook for yourself,� she had told me.
Suddenly, now that I will be living a whole four miles away, I am incapable of cooking on my own apparently.
�Okay Mom,� I humor her, putting the trophies into the cardboard box.
�You don�t have to take everything you know, Taylor. This is still your room too.�
I shrug and look around the pretty bare room. What more do I need here than a bed, a couple outfits, and the old CD player I dug out of the back of my closet?
�And remember, after church on Sunday�s you spend the day here and Wednesday nights for dinner right?� She steps in front of me and looks down at me seriously.
�I know, Mom. And I still have to come to family birthday dinners. We went over it.�
�Well!�
�We went over it! Several times.� I give her a look and chuckle, and she knows she�s being clingy.
�Well I just don�t want you disappearing like those brothers of yours.� She wanders around my room and I can tell she�s mentally releasing me from this house, giving me permission to leave. She�s coming to terms with the fact that her oldest boys will all be gone. I watch her and give her a moment.
She glances at the carpet and rubs her sandal into the stain on the carpet, frowning and looking at me.
I shrug and close up the box. �Could be a spilt beverage. Could be from throwing up from the flu one time. The world may never know.�
�The flu eh?� She raises an eyebrow at me, implying my partying era a couple years back.
I choose to ignore her comment and set the box on the bed, looking over my room. I�m a really sentimental guy. As I sit here memories run through my mind. I can remember screaming fights with my brothers in the doorway and laughing attacks on my bedroom floor. I can remember the first time I was alone with my first real girlfriend and the last time I was with Estelle. I remember the first time Harper came over and shudder as I glance over at my closet and see the pink blazer still hanging up. It is pretty hideous to be honest. I walk over and close the closet doors.
I refuse to get emotional about moving out in front of my mom, so I pick up the box and flick the bedroom light switch off with my chin on the way out.
�I�m gonna bring this out to the car!� I call to her, figuring she wants some time to probably sit and think and probably pray for a moment on her own.
�I�ll be right down,� she tells me, and I head down the stairs and out to the car. Mackie is outside bouncing a basketball ball. He stops when he sees me and holds it on his hip, glaring at me.
�So you�re gonna continue to act like a snot on my last day home eh?� He�s mad that I�m moving out. I open the door to my 4-runner and put the box on the backseat with the rest of them.
�You�re making the biggest mistake of your life,� he warns me in a very serious voice. I cannot help but crack a smile at the tone of his voice. I grab the ball from him and shoot it for the hoop, watching it bounce off the backboard without ever plummeting through the net.
�You suck,� Mackie says angrily and runs after the ball rolling down the driveway.
�I suck at basketball or I suck because I�m making the biggest mistake of my life?� I call after him, curiously.
�You suck because you�re pathetic!�
I smirk and walk into the house. Not for much longer little brother, not for much longer.
After putting my mother�s casseroles in the back of my car I take one last walk around the house. It�s not like this is the last time I�ll ever be here. This will always feel like home. But it will always have a different feeling. It won�t feel like MY home after today.
My mom hurries by me towards the basement. �I�m going to get the Christmas decorations Grandma gave you when you were younger. She wanted you to put them up at your own place!�
�Mom! Christmas isn�t for another two months!� I shake my head. I�m just surprised she hasn�t cried yet. This is a scary time for a mother.
I take advantage of my vacant room and scamper up the stairs to my room again to officially say goodbye. It�s something you have to do in private. I walk into my bedroom and it already feels different. It�s like it belongs to some other kid named Taylor who I don�t know too well. I walk over to the window and peer out at my brother in the driveway tossing the ball at the side of house. He isn�t even aiming at the hoop. He�s just chucking the ball at the side of the house over and over again, angrily.
I look around my room and breathe in slowly. Endings are always hard for me. I don�t handle change well, but this is a good change. My life is suddenly starting to pick up and I�m learning to live. I close my eyes and breathe in the sent of the bedroom I�ve had for the last six years. I run my fingers over the molding around the window and allow myself to cry one tear. It seems silly to cry over, I know, but this is a landmark for me. I, Taylor Hanson, the biggest Mama�s boy in the entire world, am moving out on my own. Once I�ve cried my one tear I feel refreshed. I wipe my face with my wrist and spy the little naked troll sitting on the windowsill. I shove him into my pocket and race down the stairs, sprinting out the front door and wrapping Mackenzie in a big hug, swinging him around in the driveway.