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The silence was cold

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The silence was cold. Wrapping around all of us like a thick blanket, insulating us from communication. Chris was the only one who tried to break the tension with small talk, he barely scratched the surface but still, he soldiered on. I actually admired him for trying. He had heart. My dad was the only one who made an effort to reply to Chris's incessant pestering while Trent spent most of the time staring out the window, blatantly ignoring us all in the process.

My usual go-to escape would be to daydream in times like these, but ever since mom's death, my infinite realm of imagination had taken up a dark identity. My dreams were not bright and happy, rather they were bleak and morbid, draining my soul of the very last inkling of imagination. My mind had now become a prison, locking down my sight on only pessimistic outlooks. I hoped that it would fade away but after six months the results seemed to be permanent, maybe I wasn't giving myself much time, maybe I was rushing the whole grieving process, forgetting my mother all too quickly. I would like to say she would have wanted me to move on, to be happy, but no she wouldn't have wanted me to forget her, she wanted to be remembered. Of Course, she would have wanted me to be happy in theory, but she knew that I would be crushed by her untimely departure. She knew I would lose sight of myself because I was her child and she knew me more than anyone.

The drive to the airport seemed to stretch for miles. Endless, perpetuating for an insurmountable period of time. The bright lights dazed me repeatedly as we made our way to the airport, but I forced myself to partake in the beauty of this place. Now that I was actually leaving I started to realise and appreciate the beauty of this city. It's funny how people only realise the greatness and value of something at its end.

Once the uber arrives at the airport, everyone immediately springs out of the car. No one wants to spend an extra minute in the tense environment of the car. My dad head swiftly walks behind the black Honda Civic and opens up the boot, pulling out all our luggage swiftly and methodologically. He hands me my pink duffle bag while Trent and Chris pick up their bags from the floor and sling them onto their shoulders. After dad has a parting word with the driver he reverses back and drives off leaving us at the entrance.

Trent immediately walks ahead to the boarding area and dad follows closely behind him. Chris and I on the other hand lag behind as he decides to help me with my pink duffle bag while I roll down my big black suitcase.

"So Tracy I'm sitting next to you," Chris says.

I can't help but smile slightly at the excited tone of his voice. Its somewhat contagious, even though I am not in the slightest thrilled about leaving, the fact that Chris will be around sort of cushions the blow.

"That's cool but I call dibs on the window seat," I reply.

Chris blows out a gust of air in frustration.

"Aww come on, I wanted to sit by the window." Chris whines.

"I said it first. Besides, you know I get motion sickness during long journeys so you should be voluntarily offering me the seat".

Chris's shoulders sag in defeat and he sighs once more.

"Finnneee," he drags out.

I laugh lightly at this and Chris glares at me playfully.

"Unless you want to carry all these bags on your own, you better quit gloating," He warns me.

"You wouldn't dare do that, I say to him,"

We then continue to the terminal in comfortable silence.

"So Tracy, are you still mad about moving?"

"Well, I really don't want to go, Chris. We're really going to stand out there, the culture is different, the language is different. It's not going to be easy blending in." I say.

His forehead creases into a soft frown.

"Who said anything about blending in. We don't have to blend in Tracy, we could just be us and I guarantee you we'll do just fine. Sure it won't be easy, but in the end, I'm sure it will all work out'" Chris replies.

I  breathe out.

"I hope you're right," I reply

Chris smiles widely at this. His chipped tooth being the only perfect flaw in his smile.

"Besides, people in Botswana speak English to you know," he says teasingly.

I roll my eyes and lightly hit him with my hip.

" I know that dummy." I reply with a faint chuckle.

Aunt Theresa, my dads younger sister stands in the boarding area

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Aunt Theresa, my dads younger sister stands in the boarding area. She came. The small gesture moves me. When my eyes met hers she stood up from the chair. Her face beaming, she never had her own kids, we were the closest thing she had in equivalence to that. Chris rushes over crushes her in a great hug, bending down low to reach her height. She smiles widely, gap-toothed and proud. He pulls away and she squeezes his cheeks tightly placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. An old-time ritual of hers.

When it's my turn I don't wince and complain like I usually do. This time I lean into her touch, allowing myself to experience the soft pain of her affections, who knows when I'll see her again.

"We'll try and visit sometime," she says, " A nice family trip down to the motherland, " Moisture pools in her eyes and the tears settle, but she pulls them back proudly and holds her head high.

I know she won't visit though. She would never be able to afford it, and yet I smile and nod, finding comfort in her lies.

"Sure aunty, I'll be waiting," I say my face drawn tight into a fake smile.

I pull away from her and Trent walks over to bid his farewells. Aunt Theresa envelopes him into a big hug, this time a lone tear rolls down her cheek, the emotion is too much for her to contain.

"Take care Trent," she mutters into his big black jacket.

He breaks down into sobs, clinging onto her like his whole world depended on it.

I felt that.

Authors Note

Well, Chapter 2 folks. Its been a while, I'm sorry, truly.

Comment, vote and share if you loved it.


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