Change

"I'm so sorry, Candy." Tears streamed down my cheeks, tickling as they fell past my chin.

I never knew it'd be the last time. But who would have known? I was just a mere girl at age 12, not expecting the big changes that would soon take place in my life. That my life could somehow drift out of reach, grazing each end of my fingers-- never to be touched again.

Growing up, I had two families. Two Christmas', two birthday celebrations, Easters, and Thanksgivings. I used to hate the fact that my father remarried, that the chances of him and my mother getting back together were at zero-percent. I refused to let my newly adopted step mother into my circle of loved ones. I had thought of her as sheer poison that would suck my family dry. And if it hadn't, I knew that surely I would be. Though as the years past, I began to accept-- and possibly love. A bit too late I'd say.

I'll never forget that night. The screaming, the shoving. I had ran out the door and dawned my bike. My friend and I cycled into the sunset in hope that with return, things would have gone back to normal-- back into the peaceful state that it usually was. The place that I was beginning to claim as home.

I remember the red lights reflecting off of the white house as we approached in the dark. It was then that I knew things would never be the same.

Inside the house, shards of glass glittered on carpet like dozens of twinkly stars. My step mother hunched over the sink, scrubbing stressfully on the dishes. My father's shirt ripped past his bellybutton. I was told to go to my room. It was then that I began to pack my bags. Trying to make sense of what had just happened. I knew I was going to have to leave, but only for a while, right? Of course-- for only a while.

"This will blow over, right?" I asked my friend in desperation. She didn't know how to respond.

The look in those beautiful, baby brown eyes made my heart thud at a rigid rhythm. I knew I had to say goodbye, but I never knew it'd be the last goodbye given. My niece, so intelligent at age six. She had become not only a sister to me, but my best friend.

"Where are you going, Shannon?" She looked at me like her personal God. The first time anyone had ever seen me in such a way. Perhaps that is why I became so attached to her.

"I'm leaving for a little bit, but don't worry. I'll be back in a few weeks." I smiled at her, tears squeezing their way out from the corners of my eyes. I kissed her head and held her tight.

It was my step mother’s reaction that damaged me the most.

"I'm so sorry, Candy." I went in for a hug. Something of comfort, but she pushed me away.

"Don't touch me." Those were the last words I heard come out of those lips. The ones that read me bed time stories and kissed me goodnight. The ones that told me how to make blueberry jam and told me stories from when she was my age.

I never saw any of them again. Life seems to work that way though. A flowing river. You seem to float along, drifting, flowing. Away from the things that you have become familiar with. Away from the friends and family that you grew with. The ones that have seen you sprout like a budding rose.

Yes, I'd say that life is like a river-- Inconsistent.