Narrative

           I stirred from my sleep, the light of my bedroom window casting a warm glow upon my face, and I tried unsuccessfully to blink it away. I looked slowly around my room, my eyes stopped on the boxes stacked in one corner. Today was the day; it had undoubtedly come. Now, I don’t mean that in a most excitable and anticipated manner as one might presume, but actually in the most opposite of sense. I flipped the whole of my body in recoil to the early morning sun and shrouded my face in the cool shade of my own pillow. I sighed heavily and tried, as useless as it was, to push away the thoughts of what today was to bring. I heard my name being called from somewhere below me, the sound muffled by the floor, but just loud enough to have woken me.

Ignoring the call, I curled the blankets around myself, hiding my face as if I was a child hiding from a hellish nightmare. Again I heard my name, and resentfully threw my covers off of me.

I went to hang my feet over the side of my bed, only for them to immediately hit the ground with a thud.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” I thought to myself as I remembered my bedframe had already been dismantled and packed away in some disclosed location. I pulled myself up and dragged my feet out of my room in pursuit of finding the source of the voice.

“Good morning. You’re moms out picking up breakfast. We’re just going to eat, pack up what’s left here and head out, okay” I turn my back and left the room giving no response to my seemingly cheerful father. It’s like he did not even realize he was ruining my whole life.

            Just like my father informed me, my mother came back not too much longer. We ate quickly, and my siblings and I were told to finish our packing. I retreated up the stairs back to my empty room, took one last look at what had been mine for over 14 year, and tried not to think of what I was leaving behind. The walls were bare and smelled of fresh paint, and the recently replaced tan carpet showed no signs that anyone had ever lived here. I sat down on the floor, sprawled out on my back and stared blankly at the ceiling. I searched for all the familiar patterns I would often find in the plaster ceiling ridges, and felt all the expected sadness build up within me, mixing with a surprising twang of anger. This was my room; it had always been my room.

From below me, I heard a knock from downstairs, a door open, and the hollow sound of feet pounding quickly up the stairs. I turned my neck in the direction of the hallway, only to see my best friend in the doorway of my room. We looked at each other with matching red eyes, both ready to burst into tears. She dropped to the floor next to me and we sat there in the unsettlingly empty room. Unable to take it all in, we were left without words, except for heartfelt promises to see each other as often as possible. From below I heard my name and the car start. I walked down my stairs for the last time, feeling the whole weight of my body slowly crash down on each step and walked out the greyish blue front door. I turned around and took one final look at the house, blinked back a tear, and hopped into the car.

Now here I am, two years later and fully appreciating the same change that I had so completely and fully loathed. At the time I was so sure that moving away from my hometown would send my life into an irreversible downward spiral. The thought of leaving everything I knew behind was an understandably terrifying thought. Now in hindsight, I can truly see how much good had actually come from that one change; I got to be a new person. I got the chance to have better scholastic opportunities and better prepare myself for the future, something I wasn’t quite as concerned with when I made the move. I still see my best friend often, but I also got the opportunity to surround myself with new people and in turn make new friendships, many I can now admit, that are better than some of the ones I had left behind. It is true that I will always miss where I came from, but as time goes on I have come to realize that the silver lining was far thicker than I could ever have imagined. This experience taught me not to go through life fearing change, but to embrace it, because life really is made up of change. That’s what keeps it interesting.