It's the time of the year when goodbyes are exchanged without hesitation; again. Though, this year feels a bit different. I feel so inspired and prepared, motivation just bursting at the seams. I feel sunny instead of down with overcasts and brisk showers.
Relative to last year, I feel tested and ready, with role models to look up to. Yet, I still feel that heart-jutting sensation: reluctance.
Reluctance to leave for one reason alone: my parents. I already miss the little things that characterize them: the oatmeal I've soaked the prior night already cooked, the familiar sound of the garage door that announces the return of my father, the tears that roll down my mother's cheeks when a tragic event unfolds on the TV in the latest C-drama.
This summer, the summer of the year two-thousand and eight, marks the end of my adolescence. Chances are slim that I'll have another one of these carefree, relaxing, and memorable summers.
The horizon is broad, super-saturated clouds afloat, shapes shifting, morphing.
"Let me pray to color your soul."
My journey has just begun.
I will never forget the sacrifices you have made for my sake, the blood and sweat put into my upbringing, never in my life.
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