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“Sarah! We’re going to the playground!” I yelled back “OK” and hurried to put my shoes on. We got to the park and I saw a girl about my age, playing with her little brother. I mustered up all the courage I had and walked up to her.
I shyly said hi and she said hi back, totally at ease. “What school do you got to?” She asked. I pointed to the school behind me and said “I’m going to start going there.” “Really?” she asked, “what grade?” I said fourth and she squealed “me too!”
“So what’s your name?” I asked, taking in all that I could, the slight gust of wind, softly combing my hair with its cold, delicate fingers. The girl in front of me, with her shoulder length black hair and bangs. “My name is Khiara.” cool I said, Instantly snapping out of my observations.
“My name is Sarah.” I said. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I had made a friend.
The school year flew by. I had made some more friends but Khiara and I stayed close throughout it. We hung out together at lunch, recess and each other’s houses.
Then came that fatefully day. We were in fifth grade and hanging out as usual. She suddenly blurted out. I’m moving. At first I stared at her, not comprehending. Why would she move? I asked myself. She had just bought a new house. I remember watching The Mask with her there.
“Where?” I asked, suddenly getting nervous. She replied Italy and I almost burst out laughing. “Are you serious?” I asked, thinking this was all a big joke. She looked at me sadly and replied, “No, It’s not.” I stared at her, my mouth gaping.
I didn’t have any words. Only tears that were slowly building up and threatening to cascade down my cheeks and drown me in salty water. But I managed to hold them in ….Until I got home.
“When?” I managed to croak out miserably. She said at the end of the year.
The end of the year came, and I was enjoying my time in the
Pocono (where I go every year) Khiara’s moving pushed to the back of my mind. When my mom told me that she was moving in a few days, I went crazy. I wanted to see her off but I couldn’t. So I drew her a picture. My mom was going back to New Jersey because she had to work, so I asked her to give it to Khiara. Khiara had already left, so my mom gave it to Khiara’s mom. I never found out if Khiara ever received my picture.
About a year and a half later. She came to visit. I was at tennis. my mom picked me up and we headed home totally unaware. When we got home our babysitter said, “someone came to visit.” My mom then asked “who?” and my sister said one word. “Khiara.” I stared at her while my mom asked why they didn’t tell Khiara to wait.
My sister told me that Khiara had left something for me. It was on the kitchen table. I ran to the kitchen, and there I saw a small blue present with my name on it. I opened it with shaking hands, and saw a small teddy bear, with something written on it’s shirt in Italian. I wanted to cry. I hugged the bear close and walked up to my room.
Last year, my mom told me what I had been wanting to know. Why khiara had moved. Her father had gotten sick and went to his home to be treated. It turns out he had gotten mad cow disease and passed away.
This deeply tragic event made me realize, life is like a fragile piece of glass. With one little knock, It could shatter into a million pieces.