Personal Narrative: My Life In Aspen

Aspen, Colorado, the town I grew up in. The town where I first learned to speak, swim and do many other things. Life in Aspen is perfect. Skiing on the powdered slopes during the winter, hiking grueling mountains during the summer and exploring it’s majestic beauty any season. Aspen’s captivating beauty is also filled with fond memories everywhere that take me back to my childhood: seeing mom bears desperately reaching for the tart crabapples to feed their young, playing volleyball with my brother on the scorching sand, and getting frustrated because I could never hit the ball with enough force to make it over the net, watching the crystallized ice charging to take over the last bit of green left. I had it, the mountains, the snow, the house, I had it all. Although in the summer of 2012 everything changed.

The last month of fourth grade, my mom and dad sat my brother and me down to talk.

My mom looked nervous, but she displayed an abundance of excitement. I didn’t know what they wanted, but before I knew it my dad started lecturing us, and then after about what seemed forever, he finally displayed his point, he enthusiastically stated the next words that will echo throughout my head, for eternity. “Kids your mother and I made a decision, to move to Bulgaria.” A million different responses swirled in my head.“What? When? Why?”
“Exploring a new culture and language will have an astonishing impact on your life and will drastically change the way you view the world.” my dad explained to us in an overconfident voice. Then with that an argument started and ended within a minute. I knew that whatever I said or did couldn't change the situation, my voice didn’t matter. I wanted to be carried upstairs, and sleep until my parents came to their senses, but they never

did.
A day after my tenth birthday we started doing the inescapable, packing. Over the next six hours, my life was neatly packed away in a multitude of cardboard boxes. According to the laws of Physics time can move at different speeds and this moment seemed to last, for forever. Then everything came to me, the harsh reality crawled into my mind, I might never see Aspen again, a rage of fury hit me followed by an untamable amount of sadness, and just like that I stopped packing and went downstairs to watch the 2012 summer Olympics. As I closed my eyes, the dreaded reality vanished, into thin air.
The irritating sound of my alarm contaminated my room at five in the morning. I looked around at the boring nothingness that became my room, every unique little thing was gone which created a white box, for others to admire. I slowly crawled out of my bed, through on a pair of stonewashed jeans and a cerulean T-shirt. I wandered in all the rooms trying to remember every experience, and before I knew it uncontrollable tears cascaded down my checks. Everything happened so soon I didn’t have enough time, but then again I would never have enough time to be able to say goodbye. My dad shouted from downstairs “let's go.” I took one last glance at the room I spend a crucial part of my life in, and then left for the taxi. The clouds hovered over the skylines creating a cold dark blanket. The High Mountain car arrived to take me on the most terrifying ride ever. The engine roared, everything became more and more distant. “Why?” I thought, “why now? Why so soon?” Nothing made sense like staring into the dark. These questions haunted my mind and then through all the darkest appeared an evil bright crimson devil, the tiny Aspen airport, ready to take me to hell.
As the plane escaped the beautiful fairy tale of Aspen, Colorado, the snow, the mountains, the house and all of Aspen’s glory inevitably disappeared into oblivion.