Unfinished true story

Waveney began writing this, when she and I took a special trip out to Utah, ...just the two of us. She wrote this for fun, or maybe for therapy, I don't know. (Written Dec. 2008)

I didn’t want to leave but now have to go
By Waveney – Based on a true story

“Waveney, it’s time to go,” My Mom said softly and quietly but loud enough for me to hear. I looked up from the Go Fish game I was starting with my Dad. The sound of what my Mom had just said to me from across the den of my Great Grandmas old, solitary house was the sound of me leaving the Thanksgiving fun with my Grandparents on my Dads side. My throat got very tight and I tried to hold the sobbing tears inside of me. My face turned red with sadness as I slumped down in the comfy brown sofa next to my Dad. My Mom and Dad thought I was getting nervous about leaving and going on vacation to Utah when I had just thought of everything I would miss. My Mom helped me gather my belongings and carry them to my Grandparents house. While we packed our things we needed on the trip my Dad came through the new glass door in the back of the small country house. I made a checklist of the things we needed on our flight to Utah while we were there and back in my head then said them aloud. My Mom answered the checklist with a soft, “Check,” and we carried the suitcases to the old, fragile and white door. I grabbed my suit case decorated with many different colored polka dots along with a canvas blue backpack and tried to carry my Moms big, rectangle, black and very heavy suitcase. (This in my Dad had ended up carrying it.) I walked to my Dads black, Honda Civic and sadly, and slowly, put my polka dotted suitcase in the fuzzy, black, trunk of the car. My Parents argued a little bit over letting me eat the buttery, one day old popcorn in my Dads car that he loved, and adored. My Mom won the fight and my Dad handed me the delicious popcorn. I ate the popcorn through sobs and my Mom got in the car. “You better turn on some David Archuleta music for this girl,” said my Dad. “Yeah, he’s a calm, pop singer and maybe it will brighten her sad, gloomy, mood,” My Mom continued the discussion loud so I could hear. I smiled a fake, unhappy smile that my Mom could tell was a half-hearted look. My parents continued to talk a teensy, little bit and I eventually got impatient and opened the clean, window, while sticking out my tired hand and started whining, “Mmm, ugh, uuh. Dad! Come here!” My Dad stopped my whining when walking over to me from one side of the Honda Civic to the other and grabbing my hand saying bye and giving me a hug from the small, open window. Right then I was about to start to sob again. “Buh-bye Dad, I’m really gonna miss you. Bye. I love you, bye,” I said while crying very hard, and sad, while my Dad also said bye and said a few things to my Mom who was used to the traveling and saying good-bye. My Dad walked back into the grass so my Mom could pull out of the driveway that was filled with many other cars. When my Mom had drove out of the driveway and turned the way we were heading she turned on my favorite David Archuleta song. She started driving and I forgot that the window next to the soft, fabric seat I was sitting in was closed and hit my hand on the window shouting bye and immediately rushed my hand down to the small, stubby window opener and opened the now tired window while sticking my wet, tear covered hand out the window and shouting as loud as I could “BYE!”.