She wants to escape it all. She runs from it. She gets a chance to leave it all behind. And she does, without thinking twice.
Gabrielle leaves France, her home country, when she finds an offer to babysit in London. She doesn't have a lot of ex...
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The most anticipated day has arrived today, finally. I'm packing the last of my items away. The plane is leaving in an hour and a half and I have to hurry to be there on time.
I couldn't sleep last night and it shows on me. Coffee helped me, but I'm nervous, my hands are shaking and I feel butterflies in my stomach. I don't have the much needed confidence right now and I feel distressed.
What if I disappoint them? What if they don't like me? What if I make some wrong move and they send me back home? What if they won't treat me nicely?
They seemed kind through the letters we sent each other, but I've never met them and that's making me anxious.
When I carry my heavy bags down the stairs, I notice how quiet the house is. My step-mother already left and tears well up in my eyes. I didn't expect her to be sad because I'm leaving, I didn't expect her to hug me and say that she's going to miss me.
And what I also didn't expect was that she wasn't even going to be here when I'm leaving for a year.
I shouldn't expect much of her, anyway, but it still hurts and the pain spreads through my whole chest, expanding to an abnormal level.
God, why does it have to be like this?
I should be happy that I'm finally leaving. That's what I've wanted for a long time now. But now I just feel ... nothing. I partly feel that I'm leaving for all the wrong reasons, but on the other hand, I feel it's the only right thing to do.
I take one last glance around the house, remembering all the small details, which is not much. The walls are plain white, without any pictures hanging on it. The house is old and small, cold and not cosy at all. It doesn't feel like home, but living in it my whole life, I got used to it.
That doesn't mean I like it, though.
With one last heavy sigh, I grab the bags and carry them out where a taxi is already waiting for me. I lock the front door and leave the key under the mat. I won't need it anytime soon anyway.
The taxi driver helps me put the bags into the trunk. "Merci," I thank him with a polite smile. He nods.
I climb into the back of a taxi and we drive off. I'm looking out of the window the whole time. I watch my home city through the window for the last time, memorizing the busy streets and people rushing around them.
France is my home country and I've never left it. And I've lived in Valence for my whole life. I've loved it for the most part. The city itself is beautiful and great and the people, at least the ones who don't know me, are nice for the most part.
I think about how I should feel some sadness about leaving my home, but the closer I'm getting to the airport, the more I feel the weight lifting from my shoulders. And the more I think about life somewhere else, the better I can breathe.
