Day 30: The End
It was the start of the summer, and it was supposed to be fun. Everything was shadowed with anxious anticipation. We were leaving. Our time here was ending.
We knew it would come. We were always saying how ready we were for it. We were prepared. We had it all planned out. But we began to forget how quickly the time passes. We were happy and round faced, walking to Tescos in our gingerbread men pyjamas. And we pushed it far away, waiting for it to happen another day.
The third house we lived in (fourth for me, as I had lived in a beautiful ground floor flat with my then boyfriend in a nicer part of the town one summer) was empty. Our parents had arrived and packed our boxes into the boots of their cars. We hugged and said goodbye. I didn't care much for that house. It was full of tears and paper thin walls, and endless assignments and revision. I cried but my tears were cold.
It ended before it ended, you see. It ended around Easter time. It ended when we came back from the Easter holidays when we realised it was our last term together. And, naturally, instead of making the most of our time, we secretly dreaded each day, how time was slipping past us without a care for our welfare or futures, our relationships. It became a waiting game. Waiting for it to end. And when it finally did, I was glad.