The salty wind swirled around the girl's head, picking up her fair, golden curls. The gray bonnet on her head would have flown away, had she not been gripping it tight. The white-laced glove she wore was clinging tightly to her small, box luggage, which she had been able to stuff with the little possessions that she owned. Curious, she stuck her tongue out into the bitter wind, and pleasantly found that she could taste the salt so prominently it seemed as if she had stuck her tongue into the seawater itself.
With the cackling of gulls, the crash of waves, and the murmur of indistinct voices, the girl found that she was overwhelmed by the sounds of the dock. Trying to keep her balance, she glanced back to where her family was waiting for her to board. She found her ever-busy father, looking smart in his suit and trousers, talking to a neighbor about the recent plummet in stocks or what not. Her prim and proper mother, with not a hair out of place of her bun, was busy fussing herself over the girl's youngest sister, which was crying over something or another. Her two younger brothers ran around and about, while her other sister tried to keep them from hurting themselves, or worse, falling into the white foaming waves. She finally set her eyes on her older brother, the only one looking at her. His gray eyes drilled themselves into her, silently pleading the message, Don't go.
This was her family, the family that she was choosing to leave and to never come back. No one paid attention to her; no one ever did, besides her older brother. The girl mouthed an I'm sorry to the brother, and turned around.
The wind was blowing harder now, and the sails of the boat in front of her billowed up, appearing as clouds against the gray skies. She hesitated, deciding whether or not to look back once more. When would be the next time she saw her father? Her mother? Her siblings? Was that really the last memory she wanted of them? The girl clung onto her bonnet a little harder and scuttled onboard, her dress swishing back and forth, not glancing back, and wondering if she made the right decision.
The last look would be the one that she would remember forever, the one that couldn’t ever be replaced. She knew that no matter how many times she would replay it over, even if her memory had fuzzed the edges, nothing would be changed. Her father would still be talking, her mother would still be proper, and her brother would still be pleading. It would be the last memory of her family, the last look.
As she arrived onto the bustling deck of the boat, she finally decided that her decision was neither right nor wrong, but simply the way that she wanted to remember her family.
And with that, the girl was able to sail forward.