English Journey Narrative
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Rebeccas Story
Sitting by the window, Rebecca was lost in thoughts of the past, the song playing on the radio had been their song, he would play it and she would sing. Those had been the good times.
“Rebecca are you packed yet?” her mother yelled from downstairs, rudely awakening her from her daydreams.
“Nearly finished Mum”, was the reply, in reality she had hardly begun.
She didnt know what to bring, what was important to her and what she would need. It was only for 3 weeks. She put her suitcase onto her bed; inside it she put her underwear, 6 t-shirts, 4 singlets, 3 pairs of shorts, jeans, 2 skirts, 1 dress, 2 pairs of swimming togs, a pair of Ñ* pants, a jumper, 2 pairs of shoes, her hairbrush and other toiletries including of course her make-up, 2 books and a bit of school work she had to do over the break. Still only half full, she added in some photos, her favourite cds and the teddy bear she longed to despise.
The plane trip was only 3 hrs, but it still gave her a lot more thinking time. It was going to be good to get away her mother and father had told her, being the youngest by a long way she was used to spending her holidays with only them. Her mother said it would be good to get away from everything and everyone, to have some time to miss the people and things they took for granted, to appreciate them more.
Their apartment looked over the beach; the complex had a pool, tennis courts, a sauna room, a gym with personal trainers, a spa, 3 restaurants and much more. Rebecca knew shed use the pool, spa and the sauna as well as the breakfast restaurant, she didnt know how to play tennis and running on a treadmill just wasnt her idea of a holiday.
Rebecca spent her first couple of days in the hammock reading; it let her escape the world around her. On their third day away, her father dragged her off to the markets and to the beach, they went to a fair and ate popcorn and fairy floss, things she hadnt done in years, which she rediscovered she really enjoyed. Her father had always been good to spend time with but over the past couple of years she had been so busy with her social life that she had forgotten the fun she could have with him.
“Cmon Becky, play tennis with me” her dad asked her
“Dad I havent played since I was about 8! I dont know how and Id just make a fool of myself” was her answer.
He won the argument, she stuck on her trainers and they went to the court, she hit the ball hard, he complimented her on her swing. The more she hit the ball the