Pathways

Heather

Heather Milson, born April 17th, 1995. Born with brown hair but has been bleaching it since she was 12. Deep brown eyes and a killer report card.

My bags were finally packed as I headed down the stairs of my family home. This would be the last time I would walk down these stairs, and eat breakfast here until Christmas. Hauling my bag down the final few stairs the sense of tension in the house grew to unbarring measures. My mum was buzzing around making sure I had everything before boarding the train down to Oxford University where I would start my new life studying History. 

History had always been my favourite subject, ever since the first time I took it before I even wore makeup. There was something so fascinating about how people from the past had basically shaped the world of today. If Christopher Columbus hadn't set sail in 1492 and found America where would we be now? The biggest (but maybe not best) country in the world would cease to exist the way it does today. My mum always told me with a mind like that I should've done philosophy and maybe she was right, but it's never about what you should do, but about what you want to do. 

I had spent 12 years of my life planning this moment, the moment I headed away from home, waving goodbye to my family as the train left the station and letting the nerves be overtaken by excitement as the miles between me and my destination slowly dwindled down, but never had I imagined just how sad I would be. While those 12 years where brutal and full of tough times, I'd always had amazing people surrounding me and now those people would be elsewhere, living their lives and I would be surrounded by strangers and suddenly the nerves were increased and now amount of excitement could subside them. 

"There you are Heather!" My mum called as my bag landed with a thud on the bottom step. I could sense my mother flinch as I dragged it along the floor behind me, over to the pile of other bags waiting to be hauled into the truck. "You're father said he can't make it today, but he wishes you his best."

My father hadn't been in the picture for well over half my life. He sent Christmas cards to me and my brother, but never remembered birthdays or anything of the sort. We got one phone call every year, so why did she think I was expecting him to make it today? 

A few years after I was born my dad decided that being a dad wasn't all it was cracked up to be and left without any notice. I was 5 at the time and my older brother, Dylan, was 8. I think my mum knew that it was inevitable for him to leave, so not much changed after that. It's not a sob story, my mother never really cried over it. I think deep down she always knew he would abandon us, abandon her. As a single mum, she was better than either of us could ask for, she always came to every event we ever had, whether it be Dylan's football game or my ballet recital, she was there always cheering us on, she never missed a beat, and for that she was better than our dad would ever be. 

"I didn't think he would." I mumbled, turning away to go eat something before everything came back up. 

"It's the big day, sis!" Dylan yelled, walking in behind me, "my baby sister's all grown up." He came over and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace and gently rocking back and forth. For brother and sister we were very close, not weird close but best friend close. He was always someone I could go to if I had a problem that I didn't want to discuss with our mum. It was going to be hard being so far away from him for so long. This year was his last year of University, but like most at our school he went to a more local, London based university. 

"I'm not a baby." I groaned, pushing him off of me so I could make some toast. I wasn't in a bad mood, but I know I was coming off that way, I was just trying so hard to keep all my emotions in, because I didn't want to cry in front of everyone before I even left the house. This day was a lot harder than I expected it to be, and it was no where near over.