My life can be complicated. But everybody's life is complicated, right?
Moving. A gigantic part of life that isn’t always the most glorious experience. I can still remember the frosty morning I always used to wake up to in Calgary. The first day of school, new country, new people, and I was still 7 years old.
Suddenly I jumped up, as panic crept up my throat. I sat up in my bed. School!
“Mum!?” I yelled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Mum!?” I rushed across the room and started rummaging through my closet to find my new school uniform. After much yelling from me, my mother managed to lumber across the hall to get to my newly furnished room.
“What on earth is wrong with you?” My mum mumbled. She was slouching, which was unusual for her, and her eyes had no motivation to stay open any more. Her hair was a lions mane; bushy and tangled.
“What’s wrong with me?” I said in dismay, battling to put my school tie on.”What’s wrong with you!”
“It’s 5 o’ clock in the morning!” My mum yelled, “school starts in 3 hours!” she rushed out, slamming my door shut behind her.
I stood there for a while, staring at the place where my mother had been moments ago. Humiliation and frustration took over me, as I fell into my bed, allowing it to consume me, as my trusty double-mattress swallowed me, caressing my half unconscious body.
Yes, that morning was the nerve-racking first day of school we all dread. What a great way to start school!
But life got better. It always does. I hope. After years filled of countless memories, I had naturalized to Canada. The icy cold weather, the dry air, black ice on the roads, my teachers and friends. All good things come to an end. I was told that we are moving again. But this time, I was moving to the other end of the earth. Not only would I miss my friends, but I’ll terribly miss my sister. She lives in New York, and just graduated. Since I’m going to be so far away, she would have to pay whole years salary to visit us.
I remember now, slowly opening my eyelids, as the warm autumn sun greeted me. My legs slid of my bed, touching the heated, carpeted ground. Slowly, I made my way towards the bathroom, my Pluto slippers dragging against the ground as I walked. I stared at the mirror. My hair was standing up. As always, I thought to myself.
A couple minutes later, I managed to creep down the stairs. When I got to the bottom, a wonderful scent wandered into my nose, filling my insides with warmth. I followed the smell, refusing to let anything come between it and me. I found myself in the kitchen; the usual scene. My mum was cooking egg omelet; with onions and chili’s, as my senses presumed. The music was blaring, as always. My little sister had found the strength to dance; how can she dance at 9 o’ clock in the morning? Who knows. My dad was already in the basement, burrowing himself into his work.
“ Ashleigh, set the table and ask your father to come out of hiding and eat breakfast.” My mum ranted.
“Ahhhh” I sighed, feeling joyful. A typical Saturday. What could go wrong?
Listening to the music now that we used to play at top volume in the morning, makes me somewhat depressed. We aren’t as joyous as we used to be. Or at least I’m not. The worst thing about it is that I actually know I’m shutting people out of my world.
My favourite place in our old house wasn't my room. It was the basement. I know what your thinking; I longed for the dark, damp, cold basement? Our basement wasn’t like that. It had my Playstation 3, Playstation 2, and Wii. Not to mention, It had surround sound, and a 52” wide screen 3-D TV. What a place.
I cautiously tiptoed across the floor, peeking around each corner, making sure my mum wasn’t there. She always finds a chore for me to do, once she figures out I’m playing video games(What a coincidence). I darted down the basement steps. The familiar basement smell greeted me, encouraging me to come in. I stepped in to the AV room. The lights dimmed. Across the room I could see the library, complete with a comforting fireplace. Perfect.
Writing about the basement makes the time I moved even worse. Even now I can remember that very day I left Calgary.
As we boarded the plane, I stared out the window. I was leaving. This was reality. As the plane took off, I counted how many seconds we were on the ground.
It was painstaking. My emotions flooded my mind, overwhelming me. A tear trickled down the side of my cheek. But I wasn't about to leave Calgary like this. Overcoming the sadness and fear, I choked down my tears, and forced a smile.
Calgary wasn't a city. It was a friend. It overflowed with welcome. Calgary was music. So many different possibility’s and ways to see things. Calgary was home. Something you could always come back to. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
Moving. A gigantic part of life that isn’t always the most glorious experience. I can still remember the frosty morning I always used to wake up to in Calgary. The first day of school, new country, new people, and I was still 7 years old.
Suddenly I jumped up, as panic crept up my throat. I sat up in my bed. School!
“Mum!?” I yelled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Mum!?” I rushed across the room and started rummaging through my closet to find my new school uniform. After much yelling from me, my mother managed to lumber across the hall to get to my newly furnished room.
“What on earth is wrong with you?” My mum mumbled. She was slouching, which was unusual for her, and her eyes had no motivation to stay open any more. Her hair was a lions mane; bushy and tangled.
“What’s wrong with me?” I said in dismay, battling to put my school tie on.”What’s wrong with you!”
“It’s 5 o’ clock in the morning!” My mum yelled, “school starts in 3 hours!” she rushed out, slamming my door shut behind her.
I stood there for a while, staring at the place where my mother had been moments ago. Humiliation and frustration took over me, as I fell into my bed, allowing it to consume me, as my trusty double-mattress swallowed me, caressing my half unconscious body.
Yes, that morning was the nerve-racking first day of school we all dread. What a great way to start school!
But life got better. It always does. I hope. After years filled of countless memories, I had naturalized to Canada. The icy cold weather, the dry air, black ice on the roads, my teachers and friends. All good things come to an end. I was told that we are moving again. But this time, I was moving to the other end of the earth. Not only would I miss my friends, but I’ll terribly miss my sister. She lives in New York, and just graduated. Since I’m going to be so far away, she would have to pay whole years salary to visit us.
I remember now, slowly opening my eyelids, as the warm autumn sun greeted me. My legs slid of my bed, touching the heated, carpeted ground. Slowly, I made my way towards the bathroom, my Pluto slippers dragging against the ground as I walked. I stared at the mirror. My hair was standing up. As always, I thought to myself.
A couple minutes later, I managed to creep down the stairs. When I got to the bottom, a wonderful scent wandered into my nose, filling my insides with warmth. I followed the smell, refusing to let anything come between it and me. I found myself in the kitchen; the usual scene. My mum was cooking egg omelet; with onions and chili’s, as my senses presumed. The music was blaring, as always. My little sister had found the strength to dance; how can she dance at 9 o’ clock in the morning? Who knows. My dad was already in the basement, burrowing himself into his work.
“ Ashleigh, set the table and ask your father to come out of hiding and eat breakfast.” My mum ranted.
“Ahhhh” I sighed, feeling joyful. A typical Saturday. What could go wrong?
Listening to the music now that we used to play at top volume in the morning, makes me somewhat depressed. We aren’t as joyous as we used to be. Or at least I’m not. The worst thing about it is that I actually know I’m shutting people out of my world.
My favourite place in our old house wasn't my room. It was the basement. I know what your thinking; I longed for the dark, damp, cold basement? Our basement wasn’t like that. It had my Playstation 3, Playstation 2, and Wii. Not to mention, It had surround sound, and a 52” wide screen 3-D TV. What a place.
I cautiously tiptoed across the floor, peeking around each corner, making sure my mum wasn’t there. She always finds a chore for me to do, once she figures out I’m playing video games(What a coincidence). I darted down the basement steps. The familiar basement smell greeted me, encouraging me to come in. I stepped in to the AV room. The lights dimmed. Across the room I could see the library, complete with a comforting fireplace. Perfect.
Writing about the basement makes the time I moved even worse. Even now I can remember that very day I left Calgary.
As we boarded the plane, I stared out the window. I was leaving. This was reality. As the plane took off, I counted how many seconds we were on the ground.
It was painstaking. My emotions flooded my mind, overwhelming me. A tear trickled down the side of my cheek. But I wasn't about to leave Calgary like this. Overcoming the sadness and fear, I choked down my tears, and forced a smile.
Calgary wasn't a city. It was a friend. It overflowed with welcome. Calgary was music. So many different possibility’s and ways to see things. Calgary was home. Something you could always come back to. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
Really excellent writing, Ashleigh. I love the use of short sentences to add impact. Personification of Calgary was great. Super voice. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDelete