As I lost myself in the rain, I found myself fast walking on the sidewalk, unsure in where I was heading. I was like a zombie, now moving at a slower pace, with a pale face from walking in the cold for who knows how long. My brain keeps playing the moment where my mother was yelling, calling me a worthless little girl, and those other forbidden words that a mother should never even think of accusing her daughter.
Leaning against a stop sign pole I reach in my pockets, hoping to find some spare change. There was a payphone across the street at the corner, where a small grocery store resided. Luckily I was able to gather $2.72, I ran towards the payphone, taking a hold of the phone almost immediately. In what felt like slow motion, my hand reached up to insert the change, and my frozen fingers slowly dialed my father’s cell phone number. On the fourth ring my father answered. I froze at the sound of his voice, it was too late to hang up, I had to respond before he hung up, quickly I blurted out with one breath, “I left the house.”
My father took a few moments to answer, which was understandable because he didn’t even know who he was speaking with. I took a deep breath and said, “Daddy, where are you?” My voice was shaking, guessing by the sound of his voice, it was evident to him that I have been crying. At that moment I regretted calling him.
I knew he had enough problems to deal with, and he didn’t need this to add on. In a low soothing voice he responded, “Stay where you are, I’ll be there in half an hour, now calm down and tell me where exactly you are.”
Yelling, screaming, door-slamming shut, and crying were a daily thing at my home. My father worked all day out of town, so I never really got to see him. He never got to experience the drama that happened every day, because we kept it from him. We always managed to behave during the time he was home, to enjoy the time our family had together.
As I looked out the window thinking about my father, and the secret we’ve been holding back to tell, I suddenly snapped back to reality. I realized my dad had parked in front of the grocery store. I slowly walked towards the driver’s side, hoping that I gave him a hint that I wanted him to step out; he opened his door and stood there. I immediately hugged him as tight as I could, and said “I love you.” He said “I love you too.” We stood there for awhile, until he told me to get in the truck, which I obeyed. He pulled out from the parking lot and said, “We’re moving to Pasco, to start off with a clean slate.”
About 6 months later things turned for the better. I was very sad and depressed about leaving all my friends behind however I couldn’t help but feel this feeling of tranquility at the fact that I would get the chance to start over again. My parents worked out an agreement that they would not lie to each other anymore and of course more information that I never found out about, because they only kept it between themselves. I am very positive that this move would not only be good for me but for my parents as well, who very much needed it.
It’s been two years since I turned my life around, sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if my father hadn’t decided to move the family away to a new city. For the longest time, my brain played over and over all the wrong that I did, and thanks to those mistakes my parents had tension between them for a short time. Because of my mistakes my mom disliked me very much for the longest time. I was hermit and never really came out of my room, only for life’s necessities. At times the guilt became too much, because I was constantly reminded about it, sometimes I couldn’t hold back and I would break down.
When I started my sophomore year in my new high school I didn’t want to make friends in fear that I would rekindle my past in a new city. Everyone I tried to talk to reminded me of someone from my past. And that’s exactly what I didn’t want, something I didn’t need in my life anymore. A short time after moving to a new city, I got together with some of my old friends, and they would comment a lot on how much I’ve changed, that I wasn’t fun anymore. I got a warm feeling every time I was told that, and I would think to myself, “I didn’t change, I just matured... huge difference.”
I guess everything doesn’t turn out perfectly like they do in those story books I remember my grade school teachers reading to our class. But I learned that with each challenge faced, I gained more knowledge, I became a stronger person, a different person, all because I let go of those childish ways that got me in trouble and allowed mature part of me a chance to bloom into the real person that I am.