Saying good bye


The next day was the goodbye dinner and I was dreading it. I was woken up by Dad at 8am to help pack, not the best start. I had to spend five hours packing, with lunch and a fifteen minute tea break. I would have preferred to go to school on a Sunday than do that! I was so bored; I’m surprised I didn’t fall asleep. At four o’clock I had a shower and got ready to meet the girls. We were meeting at six in town for pizza. This time I was early getting ready so I had an hour to spare so I decided to pack my clothes and just left my clothes for the next day on my bed. I managed to pack all my clothes and still had time to watch TV. 


The goodbye dinner was a surreal blur, it felt like a dream. A nightmare. Everyone was crying throughout the whole dinner. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I had to leave them all the next day. It seemed to drag on for hours into the night, no-one wanted to go home because none of us knew when we would next all be together again. Saying goodbye was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I felt like someone was stabbing me in the heart every time I looked at them. I hugged each of them individually, and each time I didn’t want to let go. Once I had hugged everyone and said goodbye, Dad pulled up at the side of the road. I waved to them until they were little dots at the bottom of the hill. 


“Did you have a good time?” Dad asked as we returned home for the last time. 

“It was ok. I’m really going to miss them.” I said still crying. 

“I know, but you’ll make new friends at Happlin secondary.” Dad tried to reassure me.

“I don’t want to make new friends, I love the ones I have already!” I said stomping up the stairs to my room.

I buried my head under my pillow as my alarm clock buzzed continuously in my ears. I slid one arm from under my duvet and slammed my hand on the ‘snooze’ button. Just as I was drifting back to sleep my floorboards began to creak.

“What do you want Dad?” I mumbled.

“It’s eight o’clock sweetie, time to get up.”

“It’s too early!” I moaned.

“We have to move all the heavy stuff. Like your bed.”

“Well, move it whilst I’m still in it then.” I hissed.

“No, I’ll hurt my back going down the stairs. Now get up!” He said walking over to my window. Then before I knew it I blinding explosion of light invaded my room as he flung my curtains open.

“Fine, I’ll get up!” I snapped and started to drag myself out of my bed. 


After five hours of moving and packing all I wanted to do was sit down and watch TV. But that was too much to ask as the TV and sofa were both already on there way to the new house. I helped Dad move the last pieces of furniture out to the removal van and then headed upstairs to collect my three suitcases of clothes and shoes from my room. As I picked them up I took one last look around my room. It was dead silent.

“Elisha, we’re going now!” Dad called up the stairs. I carried my suitcases to the car and put them in the boot.


The drive to Happlin seemed never ending; I leant my elbow against the window and squished my cheek with my hand. 

“Cheer up Darling. We’ll be there soon.”

“Dad, you’ve said that four times now. Seriously, how much longer?”

“About another hour or so.”

“Argh!” I roared. “This is taking sooo long! I’m mega bored.”

“I’m bored of you moaning.” 

I glared at him unimpressed and folded my arms tightly in my chest.

About an hour and eternity later we arrived at our new building. I froze in amazement, it towered above me. I gazed up to the top windows and squinted to see my new home.


“If you think that’s cool, go up and look inside.” Dad grinned.

“Ok.” I beamed, with a smile from ear to ear. “What number is it?” 

“It’s the penthouse Elisha, level fifteen. We have the whole floor.”

I was speechless as he handed me the key. It was called a key but it was actually a card, like a hotel room key. It was a shiny white with a huge red arrow pointing downwards and “penthouse” written inside the arrow. 


The apartment had me in amazement for the rest of the day. It all felt so surreal. I’d only moved house once before, but I couldn’t remember it. I had just turned three a couple of weeks before, Mum left unexpectedly and Dad decided we needed to start again, start fresh. I didn’t have any memories of Mum, but Dad did keep pictures for me as he thought it would be unfair for me to grow up with no clear memories of my mother. When I was younger he would often get out the family album and go through the pictures and explain each memory behind each photograph. Once I got to about eight I decided I didn’t want to hear the stories anymore. I asked Dad to put the photos with Mum in into a separate album and hide it in a box in the loft. I simply believed there was no point how on to someone who was only a picture I had no real memory of her. And I didn’t want to. I was devastated by the disappearance of Mum, I never understood it. The only real memories I could recall about my mother was the horror of waking up screaming because I missed her-when I remembered her. Then I decided enough was enough and put every memory and photo of her out of my life. Forever. 

The End

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