CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Don’t say it’ll never happen to you. I said it, and look where I am now. An orphan, abandoned by my parents because of turbulence.

These last three weeks have seemed like an eternity. My life is missing – where are my parents, the ones who made my life complete?
Distant relatives cannot fill gaps; friends cannot give you the same laughter.
Coffee will never be the same again.

It’s been decided that I’ll live with Aunt Julie. Halfway across the world, in London. Kilometres away from my parents, from my friends and memories.

The house is sold too quickly, to family with two kids. A life ahead of them.

Things must go. Appliances from the kitchen, the new HD TV and DVD player. The family computer.

But what to keep? Clothing, books, letters. Two large boxes, filled with memories.

The day I leave creeps up on me. Soon it is time for the airport, for the fear to begin.

But good byes must be said.

I must leave friends behind, and the tears start to fall. Memories are given, friendship bracelets made.

“Do you have my email address, my MSN?

“Don’t forget to update your MySpace.”

“Facebook me!”

“Wait! Do you have my mobile number – call me as soon as you can!”

We hug, we laugh, we cry. Tears fall on our faces.

They leave, and he comes.

His voice a whisper. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” Tears silently fall.

He leaves a single red rose, a symbol of passion, of love.

The final day.

The day I have feared since I first found out I was moving halfway across the world.

We arrived at the airport early. We are not due to check in for another half hour, and even then there is a two hour wait to board the plane.

A trip to a coffee shop is planned, and my takeaway mug shakes in my hand.

Soon it is time to check in. Aunt Julie takes me to the front desk. As we enter, a large banner hangs; a mountain of flowers and wreaths.

We shall always remember. Flight 165

I shake uncontrollably. Was it only three weeks ago that my parents stood in this very spot, excited about going on holiday?

We walk on past, I stare straight ahead.

I must not cry, I tell myself. I must not cry.

A lone tear falls. I brush it away.

The passports are handed over and stamped. The noise frightens me, an echo loud in my ear.

The hours fly by. I hold a book in my hand, but I cannot read. It has been the same for these last few weeks.

Soon Aunt Julie wakes me out of my stupor. The plane is ready to board.

I feel sick. I gulp my throat suddenly dry and itchy. How much I want this all to be just a dream, a terrible nightmare.

Will my mother be there to comfort me, when I wake up?