My home. I choke back a cry and hold my favorite old blue and white stuffed lamb in my arms. I inhale his calming scent, something I had loved since I was a baby. During this time of panic I breathe it in, the warmth and comfort enveloping my entire being. My eyes gaze upon the yellow curtains, once bright and happy, now seem to my the situation I have been thrown into. The soft, warm comforter on my bed, the beach scene mural on my bedroom wall. A tear falls down my face, and I finger the place on my little lamb where it lands. I have lived here almost all my life, and now I have less than two hours to pack.
Slowly, I reach under my bed and pull out the dorky yet functional carpet bag I had received on my ninth birthday. In my little sisters’ room I hear Malena’s concerned questions,
“Where are we going? Why are you crying? Where are we going, Tella?” Chantella briefly responds that she does not know, and I listen quietly as they pack their suitcases. Going to my closet I throw various clothing items in, jeans, sweatshirts, tops. they are all meaningless, replaceable, nothing special. Glancing at my guitar I decide that there will be no room for it where we are going. But I do toss in my very first pair of pointe shoes and keep a tight grip on my lamb.
I pause and take one more longing look at my room. Taking it all in, I pray that my mind would never forget this place. It contains so many memories that I hold close in my heart. Framed photographs hang on my walls, and I look at them one by one. Happy, carefree faces stare back at me living without worry. I cannot even imagine how that feels. All I feel is a lump in my throat and a hole in my chest. This room has been my safe haven where I would go whenever life was hard. When I was little I would shut my door on all the doubt and trepidation in the world and hide under the covers. I would imagine I was in some far away place. But no longer would I have an escape from those emotions. I drop to the floor and bury my face into the warm carpet, saying one last goodbye. My life is falling apart piece by piece, and there is nothing I can do to put it back together.
I stand up slowly knowing that my time is all up. Zipping my bag close I take one final look at this safe, sheltered world of mine. I take hold of my lamb again and inhale the sense of home, belonging. With my precious friend on my left and carpet bag on my right, I make my way to the door. Goodbye to those soft yellow curtains. Goodbye to that mural on my wall, the soft white comforter. Goodbye to my old guitar, my closet, my dresser. Goodbye to everything I had ever known.
“Goodbye home,” I whispered, tears in my eyes, “Goodbye.”
Slowly, I reach under my bed and pull out the dorky yet functional carpet bag I had received on my ninth birthday. In my little sisters’ room I hear Malena’s concerned questions,
“Where are we going? Why are you crying? Where are we going, Tella?” Chantella briefly responds that she does not know, and I listen quietly as they pack their suitcases. Going to my closet I throw various clothing items in, jeans, sweatshirts, tops. they are all meaningless, replaceable, nothing special. Glancing at my guitar I decide that there will be no room for it where we are going. But I do toss in my very first pair of pointe shoes and keep a tight grip on my lamb.
I pause and take one more longing look at my room. Taking it all in, I pray that my mind would never forget this place. It contains so many memories that I hold close in my heart. Framed photographs hang on my walls, and I look at them one by one. Happy, carefree faces stare back at me living without worry. I cannot even imagine how that feels. All I feel is a lump in my throat and a hole in my chest. This room has been my safe haven where I would go whenever life was hard. When I was little I would shut my door on all the doubt and trepidation in the world and hide under the covers. I would imagine I was in some far away place. But no longer would I have an escape from those emotions. I drop to the floor and bury my face into the warm carpet, saying one last goodbye. My life is falling apart piece by piece, and there is nothing I can do to put it back together.
I stand up slowly knowing that my time is all up. Zipping my bag close I take one final look at this safe, sheltered world of mine. I take hold of my lamb again and inhale the sense of home, belonging. With my precious friend on my left and carpet bag on my right, I make my way to the door. Goodbye to those soft yellow curtains. Goodbye to that mural on my wall, the soft white comforter. Goodbye to my old guitar, my closet, my dresser. Goodbye to everything I had ever known.
“Goodbye home,” I whispered, tears in my eyes, “Goodbye.”
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