When I woke up in the morning it was already warm outside, and I smelled the first hints of breakfast my parents had prepared for me. The aroma of the pancakes and bacon drifted its way upstairs. I jumped out of bed and ran to brush my teeth, quickly getting dressed. I tossed my hair up into my usual ponytail, just as a strange feeling of both excitement and butterflies stirred around in my stomach.
“Wow, that’s a new one,” I said out loud.
I grabbed my handbag and ran downstairs to face the tears of my parents and to devour my last perfect breakfast for a while. I’ll probably eat stuff like pop-tarts and cold cereal from now on. Of course I would only be an hour from home. If I needed to come back I could, but something inside told me I wouldn’t want to.
“Morning, Abby. How’s it going, kiddo?” my dad asked as he stood there flipping my breakfast. He still wore his pajamas.