Today is the day that I leave home and move for good. No more sharing a house with 4 other people. No more shouting, no more demanding and no more rushing.
You would think that sounds amazing, like a 17-year-olds dream come true.
In some ways, yes, I couldn't be happier. Peace at last.
But then I think about the people I've been sharing this house with all my life. Mum, Dad, Ben and Marc, my family.
Despite all the shouting and arguing between us, this house of ours has shared some amazing memories, and that's what I'll be missing the most. Just as well technology today is so advanced, without it I wouldn't last a week in LA. Homesickness would absolutely kill me!
After checking my bags and room one final time to make sure everything is packed, I rush down the stairs with my loads of suitcases, douffle bags, backpacks, you name it....
"MARC, gimme a hand!" I yell down the stairway, in the nicest way possible. I won't see him until he visits me in LA next which will be about a 6 months, so I try to be as nice as possible.
He picks up my suitcases and helps me downstairs. These are the types of things I'll miss, siblings giving me a helping hand.
Marc, anyway.
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Finally, after hours, we arrive at the airport. The wide open tall buildings with windows everywhere makes me feel comforted, and the soft breeze from the air-conditioning settles the heat from my nerves. Airports are sooo cool. I hate planes though, they are the complete opposite.
Tight, compact, non-breathish, yeah. That's a word.
My whole family has come to say the final goodbyes before I set off on my plane trip. It's just a short ride, but I'm nervous all the same.
"AZ324 flight please make your way to terminal 7". I hear a smart, half robotic voice fill the area. That's my flight.
I hold my breath and hold back the tears as I turn to my family and give them all hugs. Ben, for once, wasn't reluctant to give me a hug. It was nice to see that he'll miss me.
I wave and turn off down the corridor. I breath out and relax myself while I roll my heavy luggage down the hall.
Heavy luggage.
HEAVY LUGGAGE.
*DROP*
Darn, how embarrassing! Just what I need.
I start picking up my load when I feel a tap on the shoulder.
I look up to see a man, about 6 foot, looking down on me smiling.
"Do you need a hand?" He smiled.
I blush and smile back.
YOU ARE READING
A Year In LA
Fiksi RemajaChey Forrest is a 17 year old student who's looking for a life in LA. But, this of course means she needs to start college there, find a house, and all the dramas of growing up.
