Leaving Home

     I am standing here again, looking at the bathroom mirror.  Staring at the one hundred and twenty-five pound girl, who thinks she can do anything.  I had caught myself staring at her a million times this week.  The next time I see myself what will I see?  A broken down girl? One starved?  Or will I be looking at the hero of all adventures to come?  I am set to leave at eight o`clock tomorrow morning.  The airplane will take off at ten o`clock and I should arrive in India before ten o`clock the next morning.

     The whole trip is staring at me in the face.  The plane ticket, money, and dehydrated food are in my backpack.  I am unsure what I will face, so I packed: a water bottle, a flashlight, some matches, a Sharpie, a small journal, a first aid kit, a blanket, a change of clothes, and my life`s savings.

     I know that I can face all the temperatures that can possibly hit me.  Freezing?  Our freezer is colder than all of Antarctica in one room!  Hot?  My showers are hotter that anything on this Earth!

     “Blade, Dad says it`s time to go to bed,” Tieson calls from downstairs.

     “Okay, thanks.”

     As I crawl into bed, I am unsure of the next time that I will get the luxury of a nice warm bed.  I set my alarm for six o`clock, and crawl under the covers.  My mind wanders, and I start thinking about all of my adventures.

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     The next morning, I wake up to the blaring of my alarm.  As I scramble through my room, I stumble over the textbooks and papers that I had finished early in order to go on this trip.  I flip on the light switch allowing the light to flood the room.  Once my eyes are adjusted, I can see where I`m going.

     I tiptoe to Tieson`s room and stand in the doorway, watching my baby boy sleep.  His red hair falls in his face, and he twitches ever so slightly.  His blue eyes are shut tightly.  As I watch my angel sleep, tears stroll down my cheeks.  I realize that I may never see him again.

     My Father startles me when he rests his heavy hand on my shoulder, and whispers, “Are you ready for breakfast?”

     “Give me five minutes,” I reply.

     “Do you want pancakes?”

     I nod my head.  Pancakes…my favorite breakfast!

     Dad walks downstairs.  His thin body seems especially heavy today, and I can`t help thinking that it is because I am leaving, and may never return.  I tiptoe over to Tieson`s bed.  I sit on the edge, and start to sing:

Close your eyes

Go to sleep.

I`ll be here

To hold you dear

And when we are apart…

    

     My voice trails off as I think of what will happen later.  I always sang my brother to sleep, as I cuddled him in my arms and stroked his thin hair.  Mother had done it for us, and so now, it is my responsibility. 

     I get up and make my way downstairs, passing the laundry room and my bedroom.  I walk down the stairs, and turn into the kitchen.  A stack of pancakes is on the table, indicating how long I was upstairs.

     “I thought you told me ‘five minutes’?”  Dad teases.

     “Sorry,” I tease back.  “How were you supposed to make all these pancakes in five minutes anyway?” I continue, buttering the two pancakes on my plate.

     The pancakes taste heavenly.  Dad made them just the way that I like them, light brown on the outside, and gooey on the inside.  I don`t know why, but I`ve always loved the taste of the uncooked mix.

     After I have eaten around six pancakes, I walk upstairs to dress.  I put on my camouflaged pants and a black tee shirt.  A friend had once told me to wear long pants when you go into the woods, so that if a snake bites you it hurts less, or something like that.  I lace up my steeled toed boots.

     By now it`s time to go.  When I turn around, I see Tieson`s small face staring at me.  He is trying his hardest to hold back the tears, but some slide down his cheeks anyway.

     “Don`t cry,” I soothe him, as he runs toward me.  He hugs me and presses his head against my chest.  “I`ll be back,” I reassure him, sensing the doubtfulness in my own voice.  “I`ll come back a hero and tell you all my stories. Okay?”

     “I just want you to come back,” he sobs.  “I don`t care if you’re a hero or not.”

     With that I have to do the hardest thing that I have ever done in my whole life.  I have to pry him from me and leave him there crying, as I walk away from everything I`ve ever known. 

     I walk downstairs to where Dad is waiting for me.  He is driving me to the airport, while Grandma is  watching Tieson. 

     As I am about to walk through the door, two little arms wrap themselves around my waist, and he whispers, “I love you.”

     “I love you, too,” I reply.

     When I say this, he lets go, and watches as I slump into the car.  Just as we are pulling out of the driveway, Tieson runs out with a small purple object in his hand.

     “Blade, you forgot your watch!”  He cries out.  He had gotten me this watch for my fourteenth birthday, and he made me promise that I would take it with me on my trip so that I wouldn`t “forget him.”  Like I could ever do that!

     I hop out of the car and grab the watch.  “Thank you,” I say smiling as I hop back into the car, and Dad whisks me off to the airport.

     When we arrive at the airport I exclaim, “I can`t believe you`re letting me do this!  Mom would never let me go!”

     “I know,” he replies. “Oh, I almost forgot.  I got you a going away gift.”

     He pulls out a round of rope from the backseat.

     “Thanks, Dad,” I smile, trying to hide my disappointment.

     “It will be strong enough to hold you so that you can use it for climbing,” he explains.

     Then he pulls a large, metal, hook device out of the car-door bin.

     “Tie the rope to this, and clip it onto your belt when you use it.  Now get out,” he says forcing a smile.

     I hug him and kiss his cheek.  “I love you.”

     “I love you, too,” he replies.

     As I back away, I can see tears running down his face, and I know he can see plenty in my eyes.  I take a deep breath, open the car door, and step out. 

     “Blade, wait.  I almost forgot.”  He pulls a yellow package out of the car door.  Here.  Don`t open it until you`re on the plane.”

     I shake my head in  gratitude.  Then I force myself to walk straight to the glass doors.  Once I walk inside, I allow myself to look back.  Dad is driving away.  Apparently he had just left, because he hadn`t gone far when I looked back.  When I turn around, I realize that just beyond the revolving doors my adventure awaits.  I push on the handle and I take another deep breath as I walk into the wonderland that is all so new to me.  New people.  Alone.  My ears are ringing from all the noise.  So many people talking!  I never knew there could be so many people!  In my small town in North Carolina, there are only about two hundred people, while there must be over two thousand here! By now, I am waiting in the security line, inching my way towards the scanner.  There is a strange box that people are pushing their belongings into.  Beyond that, more people are walking in all different

directions.  All the benches are occupied, and there is a never-ending line for the ladies` bathroom.            

     “Flight fifteen will be leaving in fifteen minutes.  All passengers please board now,” someone says.

     “Who said that?”  I ask looking around.

     The kind woman in front of me tells me that it was someone on the loud speaker. 

     When I get to the box, the officer says, “Put your backpack on the belt, and all other items in the tray.”

     “Will I get them back,” I ask suspiciously.

     “Of course, Ma`am.”  He says, a little too grumpily for my taste.

     I place my things in the tray, and walk through the metal arch.  Then I grab my things, and head toward the gate marked Flight 17, directly to the left. 

     The screen ahead of me indicates that my seat is in group C, meaning that I will be with the third group of people who line up to board the plane.  Soon an airline representative comes around and calls out everyone`s name.  Once all the names are called, and everyone is present, she announces that everybody can board the plane.

     We line up in our designated order, and when I reach the front of the line, I hand my ticket over to the gate agent, and walk through the attachable gateway.  I take my seat between a video game geek, who has brown hair, is thin and tall, and is around my age. I am also beside a bigger man, who takes up half of my seat.  I retrieve my journal from my backpack, and start logging about my day.  The “Video Boy” keeps hitting me with his elbows, and when he isn`t playing his Batman game, he`s looking over my shoulder trying to read what I am writing about my day so far.  It gets annoying!  Doesn`t he know anything about privacy!  After ten minutes of him looking over my shoulder, I can`t take it any longer, and snap my book shut.  It`s the most I can do to keep from slamming the book shut, and knocking him out with it!

     I decide that I should organize my backpack.  Maybe “Video Boy” will be interested in my belongings.  To my surprise, as I take out my things, I see a long, white envelope in my backpack, and pull it out.