MY FAREWELL PARTY

“See you tomorrow. Remember, 10 o’clock. Don’t be late!” Anne said, one of my best friends. Those words kept whispering in my ears all night – an endless Friday night. That week, we had been straining every nerve to plan my farewell party on Saturday, my final day in Vietnam before I set foot in Canada to continue my studying. As I was lost in a train of thought, the antique, German cuckoo clock truck the time; it was 8 o’clock. And there it came: my very last farewell party.

No sooner had I arrived than such a scene mesmerized me. The honey yellow sunlight rambled over my age-old school and some faithful flamboyant trees, permeated through windows and doors, petals and leaves. A playful breeze gathered the delicate scent of various flowers wearing their splendid gowns, scattered that quintessence into the refreshing spring air. With a vacant mind in that tranquil atmosphere, I trailed wearily to the meeting point: canteen.

A tumult of shouting coming from the canteen tempted my legs to lengthen the stride. My hands sweated. As soon as I met my friends’ eyes, they screamed my name out loud, welcomed me rapturously. They swarmed toward me, hurriedly, with their radiant smiles, petrified me completely. My heart started pounding rapidly as if it wanted to escape from my cramped chest. Tears were pouring like waterfalls on our faces, flooding all the eyes. A velvety voice out of the blue eased off the touching situation. “Before we get to the feast, we would like you to come up here and receive a present from the bottom of our hearts, Nicole,” Anne announced loudly and dignifiedly. I toddled curiously to the gift box that had been wrapped deliberately, held my breath, and opened it gently like pampering a blooming, enchanting yellow rose. My feet rooted to the spot when I first glanced at such an alluring frame. It was a midsize, square handmade frame from which the smell of wood groped its way to my slightly reddish, wet nose. Inside the frame, there were about twenty adorable, tiny photos retaining some of the most memorable moment. They had been 0rganized mindfully, which brought out the glamour within such rustic simplicity of the frame and the photos. While I was totally engrossed in those engaging photos, my hands accidentally found their way to a secret, pocket-sized notebook hidden at the back of the frame. On the spur of the moment, my eyes were filled with tears. “Don’t open it right now. It’s better to read it when you come back home.” Anne said. She immediately asked me to make a speech telling my feelings. Although I was emotionally speechless, I choked back my tears, babbled thankfully one word at a time like a baby learning to speak. After that, the feast started. A big box was delivered just in time. Inside the plain carton box was a two-layered cake frosted with Persian pink frosting. The most outstanding detailed, however, was a piece of white chocolate with the image of our mascot: Tepig – one of the species of Pokemon creatures. Apart from the dessert, various dishes are served across the tables. Despite not being the finest of foods, all the food is cooked by my classmates, who put their hearts and souls into the course. A mouth-watering scent floated freely: cheesy tteokbokki, meaty spaghetti coated with thick, silky, lattice red tomato sauce, spicy chicken curry with brown rice,… We went around chatting incessantly, telling jokes, chasing each other with a cup of fizzing coke in their hands and frosting on their faces. Everyone was over the moon, holding hands, dancing cheerfully, making the most of this party. Unfortunately, the party soon came to an end.Nobody wanted to leave. One after another, they drew me to their hearts, gave the best wishes, and said “Goodbye”.

When I got home, it was night time. The roads became busier, more crowded with cars and motos lining up like thousands of industrious ants working. Lights from countless restaurants were lit up, enthusiastically welcome the hungry customers. Regardless of the boisterous scenery, I could feel the loneliness somewhere; maybe it’s the deep black sky or the homeless begging on the sidewalk that played a harmonious piece of music with my soul. Unexpectedly, a stray thought flashed through my mind: the notebook. I hurriedly ran back to my room and opened the notebook slowly like uncovering a forgotten treasure chest. It’s the most precious notebook I have ever had: thirty-two signatures, thirty-two styles of handwriting, thirty-two letters written down. I read each of them carefully, trying my best to be in my right mind and avoid blurring the words with the tears. I have never cried that much before in my life. Through those words, I realized how friendship felt like. The entire party knocked the wind out of me as effectively as a jab to the chest. I guess “wonders will never cease.” This farewell party will undoubtedly live in my heart in perpetuity.