Ebony Wings

2

~Ali~

It is a long and initially bumpy drive to Barmouth. Getting out of our village is a challenge in itself along the slick, serpentine country roads. Even the pot holes in the road seem dangerous, firing off like land mines each time the car dives into one. But once we were clear from the only countryside I know, we slip effortlessly onto the motorway and it is smooth sailing from there.

The heavy weight draped over the car is crudely broken by the effervescent din of the radio in a manner that seems both sacrilegious and uncouth in our silence. I crack a window open hoping that the rush of the wind will drown out the buoyant sounds. The brisk air wafts over my clammy forehead, drying the scattering of nervous perspiration that I didn't even realise was accumulating there.

But not all is forlorn. Despite mum's muffled tears from the front seat, I know that she is excited for me. She feels this is the means to install some 'independence' and 'character' into myself so I can 'mature into a strong and capable young lady' (you can probably tell that those are her words, not mine). Dad was certainly less formal about the whole situation. He bought me extra credit for my phone, even after I told him that it wasn't necessary, but he ignored my protests and simply advised me to enjoy myself. Oh, and to call at least twice a week - or email as an absolute minimum.

Countless junctions up the motorway later and our car veers down a slip road, rolls through a round-about and we drive onto a minor tarmac road. We slip in and out of multiple towns until dad takes us off to the right and we glide onto a wide, freshly paved road, passing the sign that welcomes us into Barmouth.

Minutes later as we reach the centre of the small city, Mum spins the dial to mute the radio and we cruise past a slab of limestone with university's looping logo etched onto its grainy face. An elaborate wrought iron fence encompasses the campus grounds with rows of gold tipped bars and we slow on our approach to the double gates. A sensor beam is tripped as we coast forwards and the gates sweep open for our passing.

We meander through the sumptuous tree-lined driveway until we enter a clearing where a stately, sandstone building dominates the small meadow reception. Small spire designs embellish the tips of the layered slate roof and two supportive columns frame the dark wooden door. Evenly spaced sash windows are thrown open to the warm breeze and a small plaque with the building's year of construction is imbedded above the door reading 1798 in weathered, hand-cut numbers.  The entire property should have come off as ostentatious but instead it looks thrillingly impressive. We ease into one of the few available parking spaces in the corner of the gravel lot and when the engine is cut, the silence is laden with anticipation.

"We are going to miss you so much! The house will seem so empty without you." Mum flips down the visor and dabs at the corners of her gently mascaraed eyes with a wad of tissues she packed in preparation. 

"And I am going to miss you both, too. But I will be home for the Christmas holidays soon and I will call you as much as I can." I respond veraciously, looking at each of them from the back seat in turn, smiling widely despite myself.

"Make the most of this opportunity, Ali, and enjoy every minute of it!" My dad adds enthusiastically, smiling with his rosy cheeks and I nod eagerly.

"You know I will."

My door opens with a soft pop and I slide out, taking in the tangy scent of freshly mowed grass and the wispy drifts of sugary honeysuckle from a nearby bush.

"It looks even better in person!" My mum applauds, grinning happily as she sweeps the area with excited but red-rimmed green eyes - eyes shaped and coloured exactly like mine. "You are going to do so well! I just know it." She pulls me in for a tight hug and kisses the side of my head happily. I hug her slender frame back tightly.