Personal Narrative: Moving Away

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

“We are moving to Arizona. It’s your decision whether or not you come with us.” As a seven year, old girl, this was one of the hardest things to hear from the woman I was supposed to trust most, my mom. I had to make a decision whether or not to move across the country with my mom and a stranger, or move in with my dad and stay near my family. I immediately responded with “I will be staying in Massachusetts”. Although I knew that this decision would flip my world upside down, I didn’t know how much I would personally change because of it. In that moment, I didn’t know that I wouldn’t be seeing my mom for another year. I didn’t know that our relationship would never be the same again. That one sentence changed the whole course of my life. In that split-second decision, I went from a seven-year-old little girl, blind to the reality of life, into a mature young girl forced to swallow the idea of her mother leaving her behind.

Starting over. Those two simple words pretty much sum up where I am at in my life at the moment. I am a 34 year old mother of three. I have never been to college. My husband just recently left me. It has been a whirlwind summer to say the least, but before I get into what brought me back to school, I'll start at the beginning. I was born in FL., and quite literally spent all my time either at the beach or running bare foot on my grandparents farm. I loved every second. Shortly after I turned 8 my mom met my step-dad, and we were quickly headed on our first big adventure, moving to Texas! While I missed my family in FL., I can not tell you enough how happy I was that my mom married my dad. He has been a rock and solid foundation for me my whole

Everything seems like it’s falling out of place. “How did this happen?” I asked myself. Our car pulls into the driveway of our new house, and I feel like a stranger in this new town, nine hours away from the only place that felt like home. “We’re here!” my mom exclaims. My family can’t be happier to be here, but I feel like my world is falling apart. I had to say goodbye to Wisconsin, and hello to Michigan.

It was the summer between my eighth grade graduation and the start of my first year of high school that my family and I left behind our city dwelling first-floor three-bedroom apartment on a one-way street in Connecticut to the rurally side stacked townhomes and sub-divisions of Virginia. I had not put much thought into why we moved or what might come of moving. I did come to the conclusion that this move would be “better for us” as my mom would say because through copious amounts of research she discovered that the education provided would master that of our public school system where not all students had the books they needed in order to learn and even do homework. As the night transcended and we packed into our vehicles it was

We had been talking about moving to California for about a month, and the prospect of leaving behind my friends, school, and family terrified me. However, I clung to the hope that maybe we wouldn’t have to go in the end, but that didn’t last long. One rainy spring afternoon my parents sat my brother and I down, and excitedly told us that we would be moving to America. My younger brother leapt up from the seat next to me and joyfully danced around the room, but I was not so ecstatic. After my parents put a positive spin on the situation, I didn’t feel quite as reluctant, but I still wasn’t fully on board. Nevertheless, I had little say in the matter as my father’s work required us to relocate, and so that summer we moved to California.

Around two or three years ago my family and I had to move houses. Moving was sudden and we didn't know it was going to happen. This made moving out and into the other house a lot harder. Since we were moving so fast somethings we just decided to leave behind with the person that was still living there. We got most things with us but one thing that we did leave back in the old place was our living room tv. Since we had just moved and my family isn't rich my mom said we couldn't go get a new one for some time. This sucked because I used the tv a lot for watching show, movies, and playing games just like the rest of my family did. Having a tv wasn't something we needed at all but it was always something to do when you were bored and there was no other things to do. Another big thing was my grandma had just gotten us a new playstation 3 and now we weren't able to used it at all because there was no television. Not having a tv was bummer for me and I thought it was a huge problem when it really wasn’t.

When it comes to what separates me from other teenagers, there would be quite a bit to tell. I would say a major difference which separates me from my peers is my love for barbershop harmony music. I do not have a quartet of my own; however, I love to sing barbershop tags with other friends at church. I set myself apart from the world because of my beliefs: as a New Testament christian, I believe the bible gives us all instruction concerning spiritual matters.

I’m an only child that has moved a decent amount in her lifetime. I was born in a small city near the Polish-Ukrainian border called Przemysl. After a few years, my family moved to Krakow, and I later spent a while with my grandmother in her village, Narol. In the middle of kindergarten, I moved from Poland to Northbrook, Illinois, and attended school there for two years. I later moved to Chicago Ridge, and just last year in August, I moved to Hickory Hills. Last year was my first year at Stagg, and I enjoyed it a great deal. For my freshman year I attended Richards. Moving after just becoming familiarized with Richards put me out of my comfort zone sophomore year and I had to talk to a lot of people to try to make friends. For this reason,

Throughout my short 18 years on earth I have moved many times. Most of them I don’t quite remember for I was too young too remember. The first time I can remember moving was when my grandmother came to get us from Colorado and take us home to Washington, where we lived happily for six years. When I was ten, we moved to Montana. I had my fair share of pain and disaster living here, mainly my fifth and sixth grade years. However, there is one memory that kind of makes up for all that. To this day I can still remember it as if it were yesterday.

“Moving again?!” I exclaimed. My mom had announced this at the end of the month of February. Throughout my fourteen years of life, I could not keep count with my fingers of how many times we have moved. On the other hand, I understood her decision to move from Birch Bay to Bellingham. Besides, my brother and I were going to school there and all our friends were there, too. Not to mention the drastic change in our family’s way of life, after a couple of months of hauling us from one place to another, on top of my mom working a full-time job, everything was way harder for her especially now that she is a single parent. One late night during one of our many hauls to home, I was suddenly awakened from an emergency maneuver my mom made to

In the summer of 2010, my family took a vacation to a state most people would consider unpopular. Most years, my family’s travels took us to the beach for sun and relaxation. However, this particular year my parents thought it was an opportune time for our family reunion where our extended family lived; Fargo, North Dakota. Not only was I unimpressed with the location but also disgruntled by our cross-country travels by minivan. Although I was underwhelmed by the thought of the excursion, little did I know it would change my outlook on life forever. After just two weeks away from home, this lesson of a lifetime prompted me to reassess my values and discover what mattered most; my family’s genuine love and support.

“Go pick out some flowers out the garden for me I need new decorations, but be careful don't let no one see” nahi starts groaning, scrunching her face together. She doesn't like picking out the flowers she says the bugs are going to touch her. But in the other hand, I love when the fresh breeze runs through my hair and clothes when I'm standing, identifying which flower will be perfect for this bouquet.

I sat there, with the dark, cold sand running through my fingers. My sisters running through the tall, sharp grass as if it weren’t even there. At the river bank, my parents were talking with a man who I had never seen before. Behind them, I could see the sun setting though the trees, the orange, pink and yellow colors reflecting off of the river. The massive maple, hickory and pine trees cast shadows onto the abandoned sandlot, the sandlot that would soon be purchased by my parents, and turned into my new home. The one story, three bedrooms, and one bath house we are living in would soon be packed away and brought to the new house. This house was just that, a house. I considered this house a place where I would eat, sleep, and do my homework at. I shared a room and a bed with my youngest sister, while my oldest and second youngest sister shared the other. My parents had a makeshift room with a small bed and a box TV in it. Six people in a one-story house is overwhelming, but my parents made the best of what we had. Even at night, when you could hear the neighbors next door yelling at each other, my mom would always make us keep our windows closed, until the morning. My family was more than ready for the move to our new home, but it wouldn’t be here for another year or so.

Sitting under the umbrella, hearing the waves rush to the shore and knowing that it may be months before I would get to be with my friends again, I realized that I would be ok. My life had changed so much since I had arrived, four months previously. I had come to an understanding that I had wasted so much time not appreciating the person I was, and focusing on all the things I wasn’t, and looking for happiness by trying to please and be like others thought I should be. I didn’t love myself, and I wasn’t happy. But here, in St. Augustine, Florida, the oldest city in our nation, I had a rebirth, of sorts. I learned that I was enough, as long as I was becoming who I was meant to be, and that being happy was a choice.