July 24th

Today is July 24. I’ve been twelve years old for eight days. I suppose I feel different, but it’s not because I’m older.

I got a new bedroom set for my birthday. It hasn’t arrived yet. It’s a waterbed. I’ve always wanted a waterbed. But I’m not getting it because I want it. I’m getting it because I need a new bedroom set.

My room looks so empty. There’s nothing left. Well, it looks like there’s nothing left. My bed, my desk, my dresser, my nightstand, all of it’s downstairs in the U-Haul. My clothes are all in a bag in the trunk of my mom’s car. Most of my books have been packed up, too. Everything else is still here. I’ll be back in a week. It feels like I’m leaving forever.

The sun is shining, through the windows. It is July, after all, traditional time for sunshine and warmth. I hate it. It should be cold. The skies should be gray. It should be raining. That’s how I feel.

The wallpaper in my room has butterflies on it. I picked it out, back when we built this house. When my mom and dad built this house. Together. It was their dream house. Dreams are supposed to last forever. Longer than four and a half years at any rate. My new room doesn’t have wallpaper.

It won’t be the same. Everything is going to be completely different. But change can be good right? That’s what they always say. This is for the best. They say that too. And whoever they are, my mom’s been quoting them a lot lately.

It’s time to go. My new room is waiting for my old bed. My new life is waiting. I’m another year older. It’s time to grow up.