My summer days before moving are filled with yellow butterflies,
looking toward my new chosen future, surrounded by bougainvillea.
My brother and I decided to move – it was painful saying goodbye to lifelong friends.
My parents and I know from advice,
that we only live once and we should break out from our comfort.
I hope for the best, praying on advice.
Slumping towards the plane, emotions overwhelm my stomach like a hurricane of butterflies.
Needing to put down my sick cat before the move suffocates the throat of my comfort.
Suffering consumes my thoughts of a future surrounded by bougainvillea.
Looking into her soft blue eyes, losing a part of my childhood.
I lay there on my stomach, tears dripping down my shirt, I mourn leaving my cat and friends.
Her eyes twinkle when I look at her, for hope of my new future, at the cost of her life. Friends
are hard to find, picky, I know I have to adapt to advice.
My babysitter, my second mom, disappeared in the move along with my childhood.
She cared for me from birth and is replaced by frightening butterflies.
Thoughts of sunshine do not ease my pain of losing her daily hugs. Bougainvillea
are my getaway from snow-filled Greenwich winters and my symbol of comfort.
Dreading our departure, I question my decision sobbing daily in search of comfort.
No furniture, no connection to my house, no grass in my backyard, and worst of all, no friends.
Summer days are morose to me, even Zillow pictures with beautiful displays of bougainvillea.
My sisters tell me about the positives of change, but my suffering rejects their advice.
I ignore the laughter in my house, the soaring butterflies.
My reality blurs, coming here for a new chapter, am I ditching my childhood?
Smoothies with Sharon from Round Hill Club, tennis with Jack and Kody, Lbsquash: my childhood.
Exhilaration of snow day sledding and mom boiling hot cocoa yank against my comfort. Tears
flow, my memories flood with dark blue butterflies.
Slamming the door of my new room, shutting out memories with childhood friends.
Voices swarm my head like bees with conflicting advice.
My yearning pricks me like spikes of bougainvillea.
Images of my past splash blood upon the already red bougainvillea
Scrolling through mental reflections of my joyful childhood
I know change is the right advice.
The summer before the move is a lightning strike of comfort
I now know that I will never be able to relive my innocent childhood with the same friends
I get daily visits from the butterflies.
As they blow by, the spikes and pink flowers entangle my whole body, crucifying me with bougainvillea.
The vines grow thicker and stronger, bolting my everyday action towards comfort.
Pounding pellets pelt my head daily, tugging rope with my bright and sunny childhood.
Flashbacks of spike ball tournaments and yelling at the tv when playing Wii with my friends.
Combating Advice;
Every time I think about Greenwich now it is hard to bring out the yellow in the butterflies.
Snapshot 