I never thought this would happen, moving away from here. I love this small city, it’s where I’m comfortable, it’s where I was born and raised, and its where all my friends live. When my father first told my mother and I that we were moving I thought he was joking around, like he often does. But the worry, stress, and fear in his expression after saying the words “I got stationed in a fort out of the country.” told me he was not joking around this time. I should have guessed that someday this was going to happen; I just hoped it never would, not today, not ever. Being only thirty years old, my father can get deployed and/or relocated at any time, relocated meaning stationed at a fort anywhere in the country, and anywhere in the world. At least my fourteenth birthday had passed, three months ago to be exact. And to be honest I was quite content after I heard the news, at least I was at that moment. My mother was the opposite of content. She was tearing at the seams you could say, coming undone right in front of us. She hates change, my father told me she always has, and she prefers to stay grounded, in one place until she dies. I guess I’m like that to a little bit, mostly because making friends is not my strong suit.
My father hasn’t told us where we are moving to yet and the anticipation is killing me, and I know my mother feels the same way. We keep glancing at each other, trying to convince the other to say something to him, my father that is. Finally, I decided to break the silence.
“Where is it Dad?” I asked him, sounding more irritated than I really am. I never mouth off to my father just for the fun of it, and I never speak with disrespect to him. The only time I ever speak loudly to him, or sternly, is when I get mad, very mad.
“It’s in Germany,” my father said, in a slightly shaky voice.
I thought about that for a while, Germany. My family hasn’t even been out of the state, not for a vacation, not for anything. How are we going to communicate with other people if they don’t our language? How are we going to survive? I looked at my mother, relating more to her since I am a girl, in search of hope and comfort, but all I found was the fear, and apprehension, you could clearly see on her face.
I abruptly turned my head toward my father, and opened my mouth to speak, “So, when are we going to start packing up our things? And when are we going to move?” I asked him, with anxiety showing in my voice.
“We’re going to start packing as soon as possible, maybe even this week. We have about a month to get all packed up and ready to go,” my father answered, much quicker than I expected.
“Oh, okay. But I’m going to school for the next month, and until we leave, right?” I asked with high hopes. I want to spend as much time as possible with my friends before I move, even though I only have about four friends at this school. Like I said, I am terrible at making friends due to my shyness and awkwardness, which I hope to get rid of someday. I looked back up at my father.
“Yes, you are. But only for the next two weeks,” my father said calmly.
“But why only for the next two weeks? I want to be able to say good-bye to my friends,” I said to him. I didn’t whine or complain like I usually do when I really want something. My father just looked at me, and gave me that look that says I’m not changing my answer. I get that look a lot nowadays, maybe it’s because I’m older, and he expects me to know when I should accept the answer he gave me and deal with it. And so I did, and got up from the table and smiled at him.
“Okay, I can deal with that…” I said after unintentionally letting out a deep sigh.
“Good, cause I’m not changing the plans. And now that we’ve talked about the moving plans, you can get started on your homework, and stop worrying about all of this, because I know under that smile you’re worried about all of this,” my father said in a slightly playful voice. But I just kept smiling at him, and then slowly began to head up to my room to get started on my homework.
The next two weeks flew by, but at least I got to say good-bye to my friends. Saying good-bye to them was easier than I thought, even though I know I won’t see them again, at least not for a year or two. I hope that making friends in Germany will be easier than it is in Yakima, besides the fact that I, obviously, don’t speak German.
Packing has been torture for me. My father told me to get rid of some of my “junk”, which is harder than I expected it to be because a lot of my “junk” has significant meaning to me that he does not understand. But anyway, I hate packing, because I hate moving, and the thought of moving.
When I finally finished packing up all of my things, I was exhausted. I didn’t think it would take two weeks to pack up everything we own and want to take, but it sure did. Boxing up all of our things went faster than I expected too. And now our house looks so empty ever since the movers picked up our things yesterday.
“I’m going to miss this house…” my mother said with tears in her eyes. My father and I silently agreed by nodding and longingly looking up at our beloved house. We were also on the verge of tears, but my father and I rarely cried, I guess I got that from him.
“Okay you two, quit staring at the house and get a move on it now, we have a plane to catch,” my father order. Joking around was my father’s way of making a situation less depressing, sad, painful, or uncomfortable. And I have to say, he’s quite good at it, and he always has been.
Without protest I followed my father to the car, and helped him put our luggage in the trunk. My mother on the other hand hesitated, and after a few minutes slowly walked to the back of the car and put her own luggage in the trunk. My father just silently observed her fluid movements, and how she did not struggling one bit with the luggage.
I crossed my arms and cleared my throat, “I thought we had a plane to catch?”
My mother giggled, strode to the front of the car, and then got in on the passenger side. My father lingered next to me, avoiding my stare.
He then opened his mouth to speak and slowly made his way to the front of the car, “Yes, Dani, we do have a plane to catch.” My father rarely calls me Daniela, my full name, only when he’s angry with me, and I prefer Dani myself. My father turned around before getting in and gave me a big and cheesy smile. I laughed and got in the car myself. I guess this is why I love my father so much; he’s just a big kid.
The airport was a zoo, and I’m extremely happy to be sitting in my seat on the plane, away from all chaos. I never expected Sunday morning to be a busy time for the airport. And I hoped that the plane wouldn’t be so crowded, but unfortunately, it is. But, at least we don’t have to get on another plane in Amsterdam, which means I can sleep for most of the nine hour plane ride.
Nine hours go by fast on a plane when you’re sleeping. And for some reason I felt disoriented when I was shaken awake by my father who sat right next to me in the plane. I had a window seat, and most likely the dramatic change of scenery caused me to feel disoriented. And after staring out the window, and taking in the city of Nuremburg, I felt nervous, scared, and even more disoriented.
Nuremburg looks nothing like Yakima. Yakima is mostly desert and prairie. Nuremburg on the other hand, is very modern looking, high rise buildings and all. The airport was modern as well, but extremely overwhelming. The Nuremberg airport was even busier than Sea-Tac, and hearing a bunch of words I don’t understand caused me to feel even more overwhelmed.
The moment I got myself settled in the taxi my dad waved over, I let out an enormous sigh of relief. I was no longer overwhelmed like I was in that airport, surrounded by hundreds of people who don’t speak my language. I was now calm.
I turned to my father who was next to me, “Where are we going to live, Dad?”
“In Illesheim, it’s an army base or fort, if you want to call it that instead. And we’re going to live in the housing on base, and you will be going to the high school there because the high school is 8th through 12th grade. Did I answer all your questions?” my father questioned.
“All but one…” I trailed off. My father looked confused, and then in a flash he realized what I wanted to know.
“Since the school on base, there will be tons of American kids going there, and the German ones will most likely know English. And all of the teachers speak English too, most of them are Americans. So, no worries,” he assured me. I have to admit I felt better after he told me that, and now when I go to school tomorrow I won’t feel like an outsider.
Illesheim is very similar to the army base in Yakima; it has all the basics you could say. It has barracks, housing, two schools, and a good amount of stores with all the living necessities. I felt comfortable here, which shocked me because it’s in another country. I hope going to school will feel the same way for me.
“Dani, it’s time for school!” my father shouted from the kitchen. I took my time getting out of bed, and then had to rush getting ready, eating breakfast and practically run to school. Luckily, school is a walking distance away, so, hopefully, I won’t be late on my first day, which would be a bad start to a hopefully successful day.
Illesheim High School is just like my old school. It has lockers, two gymnasiums, a cafeteria, tons of classrooms, two locker rooms (boys and girls), and an office. A generic school you could say. When I first walked in all I say were a few older students walking down the hallway to the lockers. Then I turned to the left and spotted the office. My father told me to find the office and pick up my schedule, he said it would be easy to find all my classes since they have numbers, and are organized numerically in the school building. My first class was math in room 103 with Mrs. Johnson; it was right down the hall from the office. So, since I had twenty minutes left till school started, I slowly strode down the hallway, running my fingers through my curly dark brown hair. I do that when I get nervous, and it drives my mother up the wall. Anyways, when I made it to Mrs. Johnson’s room, I realized that I didn’t put my things in my locker. I scanned the hallway for lockers, and found the nearest row. My locker number was 26, so it should be in that row.
Once I got close enough to the lockers to see their numbers, I spotted a girl with blonde hair who looked about my age, maybe a year older. Her locker was right next to mine, number 25, and was putting things in the shelves. I walked up to my locker, opened it, and started putting my things on the shelves, hoping she would start a conversation so I wouldn’t have to.
The girl noticed me, and turned her head in my direction, “Hi, I’m Charlotte McKinlee, are you new here?” she said in a friendly voice.
I turned my head toward hers, “Yes, this is my first day. And I’m Daniela Allister, it’s very nice to meet you,” I tried to be polite, but it ended up being awkward.
Charlotte laughed, and that confused me.
“Can I see your schedule?” she asked. I handed it to her, and she studied it for a while. I remained silent, and closed my locker, holding my binder and pencil pouch.
“We have the exact same schedule!” Charlotte grinned. I didn’t expect her to so enthusiastic about, but I’m glad that she was, and hoped she considered me her friend.
“That’s great,” I said, trying to sound as enthusiastic as she did. Charlotte smiled, and began to walk towards our first class. I hesitated, not knowing if she wanted me to follow. But when she turned around and hooked my arm with hers I knew that she did.
The first three periods of the day flew by, and I was so glad that lunch was here. I got my lunch and then searched the cafeteria for an empty seat, and was more than glad when I saw Charlotte smiling and waving me to an empty seat next to her on a bench.
“You don’t know how grateful I am that you saved me a seat!” I thanked her.
“No problem,” Charlotte smiled.
The first half of our lunch was silent, but luckily, Charlotte then broke the silence by asking me where I moved from. And in approximately thirty minutes, Charlotte and I realized that we have a lot common. We both lived in Washington, our fathers are in the army and were stationed here, and we are both an only child. And in approximately thirty minutes, Charlotte and I became best friends. And even though I hoped to make more than one friend here in Germany, I was happy to have Charlotte as my only friend.
The rest of the school day went by fast, and smoothly. I was glad to be getting my things out of my locker, and have Charlotte waiting for me with her backpack over her shoulder.
“I can walk home with you, I live on Turner Street too,” Charlotte informed me. I just smiled, and she laughed. Moments like that are what make Charlotte such a good friend. We understand each other, and my shyness and her outgoing personality go together perfectly.
We silently walked home, playfully bumping into each other. And when we reached my house we said good-bye to each other and waved.
My mother opened the door for me and smiled, “How was your first day, Dani?”
I looked up at my mother with a smile, “It was good.”
“Did you make any friends?”
“Yeah, I made a friend. Her name is Charlotte McKinlee,”
“That’s great! Is she nice?”
“Very nice,” I assured her.
“That’s good,” she smiled. I then went to my room, and threw my backpack on my bed and sat down next to it. Maybe this was what I needed, moving here. Life is full of obstacles. Some have good end results, some have bad end results. And the moment after I waved good-bye to Charlotte, I knew this one will have a good end result.
