I remember when I was eight years old, perched at the round table at my Grandparent’s house. I stared at the white cloth and plastic cover over the table. I was trying to memorize each crease and crinkle. I twirled my fork with my fingers to get rid of the disturbing feeling in my stomach. It wasn’t helping. I nudged my plate to the side and placed my hands on my and supported myself with my elbows. It felt like my slightest movement needed to be perfect. I was anxious about my parents, hoping that they were out of harm’s way. I started to concentrate on the little details at my Grandparent’s house; like the meager crack in the corner or the different colors of the pictures by the window. Today was the first night of my parent’s vacation. I knew that they would only be away for a week, but for me, it felt like an eternity.
My Grandma tried talking to me to keep the mood light.
“You want any desert?” She would ask.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
“Do you want to play any board games before you go to bed?”
“No, I’m pretty tired; I think I’ll just go to sleep early.” Truthfully, I could stay up for another hour or two, but I wanted to get the day over with quicker.
I went to set up my bed in her guest room by going up the aging brown stair case, while dragging my small suitcase full of clothes up with me. I made my bed with soft couch cushions, a sheet, thick blanket and pillow. I enjoyed sleeping on the bed and was always comfortable in it.
After I made my bed, I changed into my soft cotton pajamas. They were white with light blue stripes on the pants and small blue clouds on the shirt. I got into my bed and an appalling thought washed over me; what if my parents will leave me here and never come back? I’m not sure how I ended up thinking that, but at that moment, that thought meant everything to me. I love my grandparents, but grasping that I may never see my parents again horrified me.

When I climbed into the plush bed, I covered the blanket up to my chin. Tears started to form and I covered my whole head under the blanket so no one would hear me cry. Every once and awhile I would glance from under my blanket into the hallway and see if there was a shadow being cast on the stairs.

During my week with my Grandparents, I started to realize how silly my thought of my parents leaving me was. I didn’t cry for the following nights and felt the queasiness in my stomach slowly fade away. I guess when you’re a kid; you tend to over think things and exaggerate your thoughts.
My parents, of course, came home at the right day with no delay from their plane. When they walked through the door, everyone seemed airy. My Dad came with his skin a light chocolate color and my Mom came with a red tinge to her face.