Descriptive Essay About My New Home

Decent Essays
Many things could’ve woken me up that morning: My own worry and fault for not being able to sleep, the moving trucks constant beeping reminding me of my soon departure, or the alarm my mom set the night before. Either way I was going to end up going to bed that night the same way, on the floor of my new house, miles away from my home. I woke with the battle of not knowing whether I was dreaming or if this was reality, and for a few short seconds before my conscious told me why I was up, I had completely forgotten the day ahead of me. I look around at my once poster filled walls of bad boy bands and teen movies. My poster board of movie stubs and notes I had passed around with my friends now perfectly packed up into categorized and clearly labelled containers. I have moved enough in my life to know the drill, though I thought I wouldn’t have to ever recall it again. I have to start packing the week before, and remember to leave the essentials out the night before. On the foot of my bed were the only things not packed and bound for my new home. I had my hair dryer for my long brown unmanageable hair, makeup, a mirror, two sets of clothing, and the necklace my grandma gave me before she passed, which was to remind me that home is not a place but the people that I take to those places. My grandma always knew how much moving for dad's job had affected me, and I really thought this was the last time I had to feel that way. Earlier that week, my mom came into my room to
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