Two weeks ago (well, 12 days to be precise), I "flew the nest" so to speak. My grandfather crammed the car full of the cardboard boxes in which my life was contained and drove me to Salford, which is in Greater Manchester. The journey was agonising; as the hours passed and the distance between me and my beloved Lincoln grew, my mouth grew drier and the lump in my throat bigger. My heart was thumping in my chest so hard that I thought I might pass out. All too soon, signs were whizzing past, welcoming us to Manchester and tears pricked my eyes.
Within minutes, my home from home loomed over us. A fourteen-story, ugly, grey eyesore. It couldn't have been more different to the little bungalow I share with my grandparents, which, I've been told, looks like it belongs in a Christmas snow globe.
I tried to remain composed when the woman at reception handed me the keys to my flat and bedroom. I took them from her, my hand shaking slightly. I felt like screaming "Take me away from this horrible place! I made a mistake! I don't want to come to university! I want to live with you, Grandad, until I'm 40! Take me home noooooowwww!"
My flat is on the eleventh floor. The lifts are prehistoric contraptions. These two factors combined made the moving in process extremely slow. Luckily, we found a discarded shopping cart in the hallway so we took this out to the car and loaded it to the brim with my belongings. Unfortunately, it was a very windy day. It was the day that Hurricane Katia was caressing the UK with her tail. This made things very difficult; I was blinded by my hair whipping back and forth over my face, my scarf danced in the air like a snake, almost throttling me and the wind forced the cart in completely the opposite direction to which I was attempting to push it.
Slow lifts, bad weather...surely this was an omen? Surely this meant that moving here was a mistake? My grandfather isn't as superstitious as me and refused to take me home. He kept saying "You'll be fine. It's just a new stage of your life. You'll get used to it."
When I saw my room for this first time, I sobbed until my body ached. I don't care if that sounds pathetic. It bore no resemblance to my bedroom at home. Its walls were covered in cheap, cream paint and the bed looked smaller than my three year old sister's. Along with its single window looking out at the block of flats opposite, I felt sure that this would be Hell on earth.
I walked my grandparents to the car, hot relentless tears pouring down my face. My grandmother hugged me and whispered "Take of yourself" into my ear. My grandfather jumped into the car, seemingly not wanting to say goodbye. My heart sank. He soon reemerged though, clutching a big brown envelope. With a hug, he handed me this envelope. I held it against me as they drove away, almost as though it was my only connection with them. I've lived with my grandparents for my most of my life and I'm extremely close to them. It's almost as though a string ties my heart to theirs and the further into the distance the car went, the more taut this string became. I raced up to my room and hurriedly grabbed my photos and covered my wardrobe in them, refusing to let this string snap. No matter where in the world I may be, I will always love my grandparents unconditionally and when I look at these photos, this imaginary string slackens and they suddenly don't seem so far away.
I sat down on my bed and tore open the envelope. Inside, there were two things: a folded piece of paper and smaller envelope. I unfolded the paper and my tears ceased almost immediately. It was a letter from my grandfather, telling me how proud he and my grandmother were of me and how I'll always have a home with them as long as I want and need it. My grandad isn't a sentimental sort of man so this letter meant more to me than words can describe. In the other envelope, there was £100 for "pubbing, clubbing and society joining" and a Caffe Nero loyalty card with all six of its stamps. Another piece of paper instructed me to get the biggest drink I could because it was free!
So, I'm now officially an independent woman, fending for myself. This should be fun!
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