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Moving Day

Moments. All lives, good or bad, sad or happy, amazing or boring, are separated into moments. Moments are anything to do with your life, or something to separate you from someone else.

Moments. That word rang uncontrollably through my head that day. The room smelled faintly of fresh chopped wood. It was dead silence. I shivered not because of the cold but because of how scared I was. It was the day of my family’s departure. We sat in our old house looking at it, but yet not speaking. I was only four, but I remember the day clearly.

“It’s going to be okay,” Simon said. Simon. My best friend. This boy is a short, brown haired person who could make any situation into a happy one. Except today. A slight breeze blew through the opened door, messing up Simon’s hair. I sniffled.

I remember the sun. How warm it was. How perfect the day was. Simon and I ran along the shoreline of the small lake, but what we referred to as the beach.

“You can’t catch me!” I yell. The sand under my feet sank down like snow as I hurried to get away from him. We were playing tag.

I steal a glance back at him and smile. Wrong move. All of a sudden I was running in the soft sand. Next, I had facefull of sand in my mouth.

Shocked and hurt, I turned around. My swimsuit -green blue and pink stripes- was covered in sand. My right knee was bleeding from who knows what. I look around holding back my tears of pain.

Simon is rushing to my side. “Mommy!!” he calls, “Mommy! Elizabeth’s hurt!” His mom, a tall blond woman, gets up from her yellow beach chair and sprints to where I lay.

She inspects my knee and says, “Simon, stay here. I have to run back to the car and grab a bandage.” With that she got up and left.

“Does it hurt?” Simon whispered. I nodded. “You can cry you know, I won’t care.” I shake my head. “Why not?”
“Because you never cry,” I say.
“I never cry because there’s nothing to cry about,” he replies smoothly like the water washing up on the shore.

I sniffle again. And then he hugs me as I’m crying. I had no idea when I started crying, just that I was safe and not judged in Simon’s arms.
This is true friendship, I think to myself, everlasting friendship.

Snapping out of memory lane I whisper, “Simon, I’m not going to see you again,” my voice coated with sorrow. He nodded but I knew deep down he had no idea what it meant. How I won’t see him probably ever again. This made me want to shrink down into a black hole and drown in my tears.

“Elizabeth!” my mom’s voice called from outside, “It’s almost time to go!” I looked at my toes. I’ve lived in this house for practically my whole life. Even though I’m only four. I think to myself.

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