VIRB

Her room looks empty even though she has tried to cover the spots on the wall where her posters used to be with pages of a fashion magazine. No clothes thrown in the old chair, no more makeup on the little white cupboard that she had decorated herself with blue stars. Gone are the little boxes with jewellery, some too childish to be worn but to valuable to toss out. Her mirror no longer covered with flowers, cards and little elves. No more books and papers all over the floor. Not for the last time she carries the heavy bag downstairs. A lot of her stuff will need to be moved in the coming weeks. One more glance around as if to say goodbye. I follow her down the all familiar stairs. She adds half a loaf, a jar of peanut butter and a carton of breakfast cereal to her already overstuffed bag. She declines my offer to drive her to the station. She has her student’s pass that enables her to use public transport for free and the bus is just as fast, if not faster. Dreading the moment to come, she kisses me again and again. “You can call me tonight if you like.”
I watch her until she reaches the end of our street. Out of sight, but never out of mind. At least I know she will be back on Wednesday for a babysitting job next door. Holding back the tears I think of all those parents that will never ever get the chance to watch their children walk away ever again and I thank god that guns are still forbidden in this country