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The Move
It was really happening; we were moving. I had lived in Salt Lake City, Utah ever since I was five years old, and now I was leaving it. We were moving to Cairo, Egypt. My parents had talked about it for the past few years. Every year they said, “We’re moving this time;” it never happened. But now it was settled, we were leaving in the beginning of May. When I thought of Egypt, I thought of pyramids, pharaohs, camels, and tents. It wasn’t somewhere I would ever think to live in; maybe I’d go there for a vacation, but live there… I don’t think so. Regardless, we were moving there, so I figured I’d have to learn to accept it. I had to accept that I was soon leaving the place I had called home; I was leaving the comfort of being surrounded by friends and family to an unfamiliar place in which I knew no soul. Not only would I not know a soul, but I would also not be able to communicate with anyone. They would speak Arabic, which I did not understand one bit. I was a junior in high school, so it was a little upsetting to know that I wouldn’t be able to graduate with my friends whom I’d grown up with and known most of my life. When I told my friends that I was leaving, they simply didn’t believe me. They just brushed it off as a false alarm. Since it didn’t come to pass the last three times I had given them the “oh- my- god -I’m- moving- to- Cairo” alarm, they didn’t think this time would be any different. Of course, this year was different. This time, it was real. The re...
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