We moved houses...again. But this time it wasn't just to a different area, neighbourhood or even a different town. We moved across waters...across the sea...to London, England. We moved to a cloudy city, where the only sun you'll see is during a season named Summer, and the rest; Autumn, Winter and Spring, consist mostly of cold, bitter, harsh winds and rain...a lot of rain. We moved to a place where the streets were hard and grey, and the roads were constantly full of cars and lorries, blocking every-ones path, causing the cars to beep and for the drivers to yell. We moved to a place where the sky seemed to be filled with tall buildings, ones, that at times, seemed to close in around you and swallow you whole.
London.
My mother had been speaking about it for months and months, telling me how beautiful the place was and how nice everyone was, but the yelling people in the streets and on the roads, told me something else. Back in Grand Turk, I was happy, but it seemed my mother had dragged me away from my home and away from everything and everyone I loved, just so she could see the huge buildings and big roads. When we first arrived she took me to see where the Queen lived. She thought I'd like it, but I didn't. Even though I was only 9, I wasn't impressed by things like that, and she knew it. In Grand Turk, a small island in the midst of a collection of small islands which make up the place I love; Turks and Caicos, in the Caribbean, I had grown up with not much. Not because we were poor or anything, but on such a small island, you don't need much - apart from happiness. Something that was slowly drifting away from me, the more I looked around. Mother had taken me to see a big clock called 'Big Ben' but I was't impressed by that either. I think she realised I wans't happy when she took me onto the London Eye and I sat in the corner by myself, thinking of ways to jump out of the glass box and land successfully on the pavement, without dying. When all her attempts at trying to impress me failed, she finally turned to me and asked, 'What's wrong with you Bubbles? You don't like London?' I sighed hearing my nickname...the nickname my friends and family came up with back home. Even my name, that once gave me great joy in hearing, now bought sadness. I turned around to my mother and looked up at her.
'No mama. I don't'
It had been a few weeks, and me and mother were still in a hotel, in what my mother called, 'Central London'. However today we were moving. Mother told me we were moving into a flat with my Auntie Joy. I didn't know who Auntie Joy was, but as we got into the black taxi and drove further and further away from the packed streets my head started to feel clearer. We were in an area populated with a lot of houses, some tall and some now, however it was still more houses in one place than I had ever seen. After paying the man and taking our bags we went into one of the tall buildings and went towards the lift.
'Out of order' I read aloud and looked up at my mother.
'Stairs' she simply said, leading the way, with me quickly following behind. We climbed and climbed and climbed, and continued to climb the horrible stairs until we were at the top of the building. I didn't dare look down, just incase I did fall so I walked as close to the houses as possible, and kept my eyes on my feet. Suddenly I bumped into something soft and fell on the floor. I looked up rubbing my head and saw a boy standing there looking at me. He held out his hand and I stared at it for a while, wondering if I should take it or not.
'Hurry up I haven't got all day' he snapped, looking at me with irritation. My face crumpled up in annoyance and I got up from the floor by myself, dusting down my pink jeans and then looked up at the boy.
'You're rude' I said, picking up my suitcase.
'Ha, you've got a funny accent' he said smiling. I rolled my eyes and began to pull my suitcase along when a taller version of the little boy stepped in front of me. I looked up at him with big eyes and prayed that my mother would come and save me.
