Song: Australia - Attic Abasement

Your dad leans over the car engine pulling things apart to examine the problem. You wish you knew more about cars, he's always wanted to teach you, but like a lot of other things in your life nothing ever stuck. You lean back against the garage door and sigh. Guilt's familiar ache tugs at your heart, your dad raises an eyebrow at you. "It feels like life decides to fuck you over all at once, I don't know how to handle it sometimes. I don't know how to turn off my brain when things happen like this." He looks over to you before resuming on the car. "You get that overthinking thing from me. Hey, I can't tell you how many jobs I've quit kid, It's tough having to restart but you'll get through it. Shit happens." He huffs.

You know you can go to your dad for many things, especially advice. It's like talking to a wall trying to get your mom to listen to your problems, she usually turns it into a lecture on how easy you have it compared to her, a one-way ticket to another never-ending guilt trip. After quitting you've refused to talk to her about anything work-related. You have been talking to your dad about everything since the other night at June's. He said he didn't know much about what happened to your grandfather's farm, that he assumed it was sold. He wasn't close to him after he left for the city, only really reconnected when you were born, but that relationship was never the same. "Yeah, but I feel like I need to restart in more ways than one. I don't know." You sigh sliding down to sit on the concrete. "I know you love the city but I don't know how much longer I wanna stay here." He turns to you and puts his hand on your shoulder. "Trust me I know that feeling all too well. It does get suffocating here, It's not for everyone. You're at the age I was when I wanted a change. Your mom and I will be there for you no matter where you choose to be. I don't want you to disappear from our lives just because you don't want the same life as us." He gives you a reassuring smile. You smile back, and the squeezing in your chest eases. He closes the hood of the car and walks over to turn it on, It starts. "You should take this old thing on the road to clear your mind. You know... The town where Grandma and Grandpa lived is right over the mountains, A little place called Pelican Town. Maybe you can update me on the situation with the farm." Pelican Town. Your smile beams, finally getting a name for the place you've been trying to remember. "I think that's a great idea. A road trip is a good in-between for right now." He tosses you the keys and you hug him "Thank you, Dad."

The next day you plan to take a drive out of the city. Your dad gave you the address for the farm after your talk last night. Your stomach turns wondering about the state it could be in. You haven't been there in almost 16 years and you don't remember much of anything, just bits and pieces. You pack your bag full of necessities. "I'll be back later Mom, love you." You go to hug her "Please be safe, wear your seatbelt, Text me when you get there okay." You throw your bag into the passenger seat and start up your car. Your mind has been racing these past few days, reeling over your decision to quit on the spot. You don't regret it necessarily, but you can't help but feel like you've made a huge mistake. The uncertainty and instability of your life at the moment feels very overwhelming, but this feels right. You put your music on shuffle and text your dad you're leaving.
Dad: Be safe kiddo call if you need anything.

You didn't realize how late in the day it was until the sun started setting over the cityscape, You let out a sigh of relief, happy you're able to get away for the evening. Admiring the passing landscape of the highway as you make your way closer to the mountains. You steadily ascend over them, rolling down your windows to breathe in the fresh mountain air. The trees smell refreshing and put your mind at ease. This is the feeling you were longing for. You soon reach a clearance in the mountains, A cliff looking over the trees and foliage below, the city you've been pining to leave far beyond you now. You pull over deciding this is a good place to stop and stretch out your legs. You take in the city in the distance the wind rushing through your hair and trees above. Youre filled with a strange sense of sadness seeing the glow of the city illuminate the night. You can't deny how good it feels to be away from the noise. You sit on the edge of the cliff and pull out a cigarette looking up at the trees rustling in the wind and you laugh. Why did I wait so long to do this? The night air feels just right the music coming from your car making the scene that much more romanticized in your head. You feel so free. You finish your cig and put it out. Putting the butt in your pocket not wanting to pollute this spot that feels so untouched, You make a mental note that this is a good spot to come to when your head feels messy. You return to your car. You have a little bit longer on the road until you reach the town. You continue driving until you see a road sign. Pelican town 2 mi

The road dwindles to one lane and your phone pings that you're in the right area. There's an old bus on the side of a clearing to a small town and ahead is a tunnel with a sign above it for other destinations, other places you need to explore in your lifetime. You park on the side of the road, seeing that it doesn't seem like there are any main roads in the town, and are thrilled by the idea of a walkable place. It's miserable trying to get anywhere in the city. You step outside taking in the woodsy air, the faint salty smell of the ocean nearby causing memories to flood your mind. This must be the place. You lock your car doors and start walking, the pavement dimly lit by the lamps lining it, you look around and see a small wooden sign.
<---- Town
Aspen Farm ---->

Aspen farm. It clicks in your head and you start walking, approaching a well-overgrown meadow. Weeds, rocks, and fallen trees litter the area. It's been 10 years since Grandpa passed, and the farm seemingly has been abandoned. It amazes you how fast nature reclaims what once was theirs. You approach the cabin where your grandparents once resided and a gasp escapes your lips, the building is dilapidated, collapsed in on itself. The main room is the most intact. You crack open the front door to find it void of anything that would show humans once lived here, besides an old brick fireplace. You tear up, remembering the nights you would spend over here curled up by the fireplace, your grandpa softly playing guitar in the background as you drifted off to sleep. Wishing you could restore the place to how you remembered it, you slowly make your way across the creaky floor. Your hand glides over the cracked surface and you sit down by the broken display of brick and soot. Dusting off the wood below you something catches your eye between a crack in the floorboards. The metal object shining in the moonlight that's peaking through the open roof. You push on the board curiously, it loosens instantly and you pull it up. You find a small metal box with your grandpa's initials engraved into it. You examine the box, dusting it off, and finding the latch. You open it. It is a time capsule. You find a picture of your grandpa when he was much younger, He standing in front of a smaller cabin, axe in hand, another man in a newsboy cap, and a mustache standing beside him smiling. You flip the photo over to see handwriting scribbled on the back. You can't make out the words, the ink faded over Yoba knows how long being under these floors. You take out a few other photos, one of both your grandparents getting married, one of your grandma pregnant, standing in front of a slightly larger cabin. One of your dad as a kid playing in the fields, and one of you in your grandma's sun hat holding up an egg, a goofy smile plastered on your face. You didn't realize you were crying until a tear dropped onto the photo you flipped it around seeing scribbled handwriting. My little farmer (Y/n). You go to place the photos back in the box when you see an envelope with a bright purple seal at the bottom of the box. You take it out, placing the photos in your lap, and delicately open it.

Dear (Y/n),

P.S. If Lewis is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?

You lost it, fully ugly crying holding the letter to your chest, Your heart beating heavily against the folded paper. Your mind wondered how cosmic this must be, how did he know? You wipe your tears and get up grabbing everything and putting it back into the box. You try to stifle cries, not being able to contain yourself. You walk out of the collapsing house in an attempt to collect yourself you walk the overgrown farm, still in disbelief that he left all this to you after all these years you feel so honored, so at home. This is where you were meant to be.
I promise I won't let you down Grandpa, Thank you.

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