San Diego and its neighboring cities looked so tiny from miles above. Tiny lights flickered from tall buildings, and busy roads looked like little dotted lines on a map.

The man next to me turned and stated

"I'll tell ya. I'm pretty sad to be leaving Cali. It's been so great here. The weather, wow-ee. You know? Got business in Newport?"

I answered, saying it out loud for the first time

"I'll be living near there."

He nodded

"Oh, okay. That's an interesting move. But to be honest I don't know why anyone leaves California. You know? I mean you got the beach, the warm weather-- no snow. And then when you want snow, bam! Just go up to the mountains. Lets see, there's uh, Big Bear. Love it there, and there's--"

I felt relieved as the stewardess offered our row peanuts and pretzels, because it completely distracted the man beside me. I quickly pulled out my headphones and put on some music, now staring out the window again. Partially because it was a somewhat polite way to avoid a potentially 7 hour conversation about the lack of snow in California, and also partially because the moon was such a beautiful crescent in the sky, delicately hanging like an ornament amidst the stars. My fingers brushed the scars on my arm, tight and itchy once more. I'll have to buy some of that scar lotion once I'm off the plane. I decided.

...

The sun peeked over the horizon, softly at first, but soon became blinding to both myself and my cab driver. The drive was quiet. The driver must have seen the dark circles under my eyes from the red-eye flight, and decided to let me sleep, because I heard her soft voice say

"Miss? We've arrived."

Before getting out of the car to take my suitcases out of the trunk. I had brought three suitcases worth of clothes and belongings. I stiffly got out of her car, stretching my shoulders and neck, and took my suitcases. I thanked the woman

"Hey, thanks for driving me out here. I know it was kind of far and out of the way, but I really appreciate it."

Two drivers before her had canceled the ride when they found out I needed to go this deep into the forest. She smiled, and said with a playful warning

"No problem. And you stay safe, young lady. Some folks say there are big spooky werewolves out here!"

She winked. I laughed, rolling my eyes

"I'll let you know if I see one! In the meantime, I'll give you 5 stars. Thanks again."

Her car roared to life and quickly left the scene. I was left alone, taking in the haunting beauty of Grandpa's large lake house. In the daylight, it was evident that the house was in major need of some repairs. The white paint was chipped, one of the windows was cracked, and a few shutters were just missing. In my purse, I had the deeds, a copy of the will, and the keys to his car and house. Hopefully I'd find the keys to the art studio somewhere too...

The key was still in the envelope sent by my grandfathers' Estate attorney. I ripped the envelope to find a very ancient looking key. A brass skeleton key. It was incredibly beautiful and intricate in design. Maybe it also unlocked the art studio? I stepped toward the house dragging one of the roller suitcases behind me, pulling it up the steps. The skeleton key wouldn't budge. I dropped my suitcase and began jiggling the key in the lock.

Probably two minutes in, my patience was out the window and finally! Finally! It worked. the lock turned with a loud, metallic screech. With my shoulder, I pushed the heavy solid-wood door open.

The furniture was covered in white cloths. I coughed almost immediately. A fair amount of dust circulated through the air. Waving my hands I began opening the windows. Hadn't my grandfather died only a week ago? This house looked like it hadn't been lived-in for years.

I checked my phone. There was no cell reception this deep in the forest, so for all I knew, my parents hadn't found the note on my bed yet, explaining where I went.

Although I was exhausted and was torn between wanting so desperately to sleep or slip into a bikini and jump in the lake, I rolled up my sleeves and began pulling the sheets off of the furniture. It was like unwrapping presents, or memories, in a way. I had unveiled a white grand piano, and memories flooded back to my nana playing it so beautifully, as my cousins and I listened, mesmerized. Then, there was my grandpa's favorite chair, then a large wooden bookcase. Though most of the furniture was rather ordinary... there was a strange theme among many of the pieces. Scratches. Long, brutal scratches, always 4 in a row, that looked like a bear's. What in the world? They marked the piano's lid, the side of a grandfather clock, one of the fabric dining chairs, and even went through an ornate rug, all the way to the wooden floorboards. I shuddered at the thought of a beast powerful enough to claw through carpet. But my grandfather was no zoo-keeper. He was an artist. My nerves calmed with the idea that this was some abstract, yet cohesive art piece. Some 4 bladed tool which he clawed up the house with in the name of art!

After finding Nana's ancient cleaning-supply closet, I realized there wasn't much more than a splintery broom and a very rotten mop-head. In order to make this house livable, I need to get to the nearest store... and in order to get to the nearest store, I have to see if the car is in running condition, I thought.

...

Good thing my shoes are comfortable, I remarked to myself as I walked down the cracking asphalt road. I vaguely remembered walking with Ivy to a convenience store up the road where they sold tricolored snow-cones. I probably should have been craving breakfast, but honestly a snow-cone didn't sound too bad. The day would be hot, based on the warmth of the morning sun which had the hair in my high ponytail sticking to the back of my neck in the heat. I walked on. Please 6 year old me, please be right about this. I whispered as I contemplated if I was actually going the right way. What if I should have turned left?

The first car I'd seen on the road slowed to a halt, pulling over beside me. The driver, a teen boy with a beanie on and fringed hair motioned to me with his hands. I was confused. The boy pointed at his ears and then held up a finger as if to say "Hold on" and then pulled out his phone. I noticed that his faded blue T-Shirt had white text that read "#deaf-pride"

His thumbs quickly moved around on the screen, and then he showed me the message he wrote in notes,

"Hello miss, do you need a ride?"

I took the phone and wrote back,

"I'm looking for the general store."

He read my message, laughing and typed,

"Then you're headed the wrong way. I'm heading toward there anyway. Would you like me to drive you there? btw I can read lips"

I looked him in the eyes and said

"Yes, please."

I extended my hand

"My name is Summer."

He shook my hand, and then typed his name

"Hi Savanna, I'm Fox."

I offered

"It's actually Summer-- like the season."

He laughed again. I realized he was only tricking me. He knew my name was Summer the whole time. Now I broke out into laughter too, and nudged his shoulder playfully.

He turned the car around. I watched the hundreds of lush trees pass the windows. I'm home, I thought.