“Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? Just for moral support?" Ashlyn asked for the thousandth time today.
"Yes I am sure, I have to do this on my own but I promise I will call you as soon as I get there. Okay?" I asked.
"Alright, just don't keep your hopes up, and don't be surprised if this didn't turn out like you wanted it to," she replied.
"I will, don't worry. Stay here and take care. I'll be back tomorrow, promise," I said.
"Alright, now quick, before you go, handshake." she said. We did our friendship handshake and hugged.
"Be good okay?" she asked.
"Right, I have to be good, that's how this friendship works," I joked.
"Don't sass me before you go," she said. I chuckled and hugged her again.
"I'll be back soon, see you soon," I hopped into my car and started the ignition.
"Good luck!" she called.
"Thanks!" I called back and drove off towards Durango. The drive lasted six hours. So if I leave at nine most likely I’ll end up there at around two o'clock. I drove through the bustling city of Denver than landed on an open highway towards the southwest. The forests and mountainsides whizzed past, occasionally I'd see a car or two pass by.
I took a quick break three hours later for gas and lunch; all I had was slice of pizza that wasn't very good. Then I continued on the road.
Another three hours later I reached a sign that read 'Welcome to Historic Durango'. This place was definitely different from Denver. The town was older fashioned and western, there were general stores and pubs with old western titles like 'Kirby's General Store' or 'Saloon and Grill'. It was incredible.
I drove a bit more into town and into the neighborhood Amelia is supposed to live in. 3942 McGill Avenue. I found it, it was simple and sweet. There was a staircase in a purplish red color that led to a porch and a navy blue door. The walls were a clean and crisp grey color with white plasterboards on the windows. Green shrubs and white flowers and a cobble stone path leading to the door surrounded it. It looked cozy, like a happy house. I took out the picture I sketched of Amelia. This is it.
The walk felt really slow to the navy blue door. So many questions raced through my mind. What is she had a family? Maybe she has two or three kids? A husband? Was she happy? Was she successful? Would she want to meet me? What if she didn't like me? God dammit, Courtney; stop psyching yourself out! Everything will be fine, just remember that.
I finally approached the door and debated whether I should ring on the bell or not. I was beyond nervous. When I finally got the courage, I rang the doorbell. Ten seconds went by before the door clicked and opened. The woman from the picture, I had sketched her. She stood there. She was perfect, beautiful.
She was like me.
"Um, hi. Can I help you?" she asked, her eyebrows rose in confusion.
"Amelia Pond?" I asked. She nodded.
"My name is Courtney Stern. I'm your daughter,"