The Crimes of Atlanta

One

The sun peaked out from the clouds of the Pennsylvanian sky, sending a warm beam of lighting through the windows of my bedroom. I deeply surveyed her bedroom, for the last time. a room that had once been a sanctuary, echoed followed by the sound of boxes being filled with items, one by one. As I scanned through the remaining pieces of my life, each item I touched felt like a fleeting connection to a past that was slowly slipping away through my fingers each second. Photographs scattered my bedroom walls, capturing all of the moments that had been frozen in time–laughter, milestones, shared secrets, and everything in between. I couldn't escape the deep tidal wave of nostalgia that washed over me as I carefully tucked these memories into the insides of a dusty shoe box. The familiar faces staring back at me seemed to whisper tales of the journey I had undertaken in my hometown. The air in the room was thick with emotion as I carefully folded clothes, the soft rustle of fabric replacing the silence in the echoey room. Friends would soon become distant memories in my life, their familiar voices replaced by the hum of a city that held the promise of change. The realization hung heavy in the air, and the lump in my throat intensified with every farewell I had exchanged. Hours of skimming at boxes blurred into moments—as the sun dipped below the horizon creating a beautiful orange and pink sunset, like a vibrant flame in the sky. The night wore on, and the final boxes were sealed shut.

Her childhood room was transformed into a quiet sanctuary of nostalgia, sealed behind the door that bore witness to years of growth. But as she surveyed the room once again, but this time, with an unexpected sensation gnawed at the edges of her excitement. Anxiety, like a shadow, crept in, its tendrils weaving through the threads of anticipation.
"Hey kiddo," My father approached me, knowing I was still having a tough time with the situation, giving me a gentle hug from behind.
"Oh, hey dad. You startled me a little bit." I chuckled, trying to hide my anxious situation from her father.
"We've begun to start packing everything into our moving van outside, would you be able to help me and your mother bring out some of the boxes please?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll be out in a minute".
"Alright, thank you Lou, I appreciate—"
"Paul, honey, can you please help me with this heavy box!" My mother yelled out from the living room to my father.
"Oh, yes, I'll be right there Elise!" He responded to my mother,
"See you out there in a minute kiddo".
"Alright dad" I sighed. I didn't want to leave—Although I knew Atlanta was beautiful, I never had the desire to live in the city. I would be surrounded by lights, ongoing traffic, loud and obnoxious people screaming at one another. Yuck. I always have wanted to live on a charming and tropical beach, where I was surrounded by palm trees towering over me, that were greener than emerald. I'd always wanted to be in view of the deep blue ocean, glistening from the rays of sun. Seeing the waves crashing against the shore right next to my feet, that created a sense of peace whenever I was there. I sighed, getting up from the wood flooring. I began to take my remaining boxes out by my parents, one by one, followed along with loading them.

It was early morning, the sunrise ever so slightly more beautiful than the sunset from the previous night. I stood in the center of my room—Taking one last deep breath. I skimmed one last time, as my eyes began to swell up with tears and I felt a large lump in my throat. I slowly made my way to my doorway, sealing off the remnants of my childhood room. The rest of my luggage stuffed inside a small suitcase in my hand, descending towards the door where my parents were standing, waiting for me. The echoes of my footsteps filled the empty hallway. The adventure in the new city awaited me, cloaked in uncertainty, and I couldn't shake the subtle shiver of anxious anticipation that clung to me from the very beginning. Today was the day my life would change, forever.