Page 64 - 2024-2025 Creative Writing

Leaving

On a bright summer Friday night, “Friday Night,” by Katy Perry was blasting around the

room as the breeze blew in through an open window, brushing my hair while I was packing

my clothes. The music abruptly stopped, and my siblings appeared in my peripheral vision,

asking, “Do you need help?” Looking at the two looming teenagers over me, I couldn’t help

but giggle since their expressions were serious, something I didn’t expect given their

overhyped energy.

As I nodded swiftly, both of them took their places next to me, with me squeezed between

them. When we switched the music back on, they began playing, “I See the Light,” from

Tangled. At that moment, I wanted to crack a smile genuinely since the music and the

scenario reminded me of when I used to dress up my younger sister and style her hair while

intently watching Tangled. There was not a single piece of clothing that we did not use to

create out creation, which later on would feature a runway show with three guests; our

parents and brother.

There is a fine line between the lonve and the hate, they say. From constant fighting over

who gets to choose a movie to watch to going into each others room repeatedly just to annoy

each other had shaped my relationship with my siblings. As I glanced over at them folding
my clothes silently with sullen faces, there I understood that I am leaving to go after my

dream but at the cost of living them behind. There won’t be any late-night talks and going

out with them; no covering up for each other and laughing till our stomachs hurt.

As the sun rose declaring a new day has started, we arrived at the airport. Moments before

crossing the border felt too definitive, as does everything. I knew I’d come back, but that

version of myself would never be present when I see them again. As the final hugs

befoedeparting are exchanged and I walked away clutching my suitcase without looking

back, I realized leaving won’t be easy.

B. Dulguun 11A