Just recently, I found out I was moving to another state. Knowing I have to leave everything behind was awful. I was halfway through eighth grade, starting the second semester, and I was doing great. My grades were all A’s and I was happy there with all my friends, Amber, Marianna, and Makayla. Our house was decent, my sister and I both had our own rooms anything I would ever wish for. My dad had been promoted to another job, where he was going to get paid more than what he was currently earning. It was an amazing opportunity for my family. I was glad for my dad, but I still felt bad for myself.
Rosewood. The school I'll be attending for the rest of my three years of high school, and to be completely honest, I'm not al that excited. I'm not good at making friends, which usually ends up with me being alone. Last year I made two friends, Isabelle and Roy. That's only because I had to do a group project with them second term, sure they were nice and welcoming but I never talked to them, I'd smile and wave in the halls or exchange small 'hello's' but other than that I was alone. The only good thing I can think of is that I could have a new outlook and not that of -what the school called me- 'Emo' and I'm not. Perhaps moving to Illinois could be a good thing, but if I get labeled a Emo again it's 9th grade all over again. Three days from now I'll be on my way to my new home..
4,097 people. That was the population of Centralia Missouri in 2011. Moving had never been an issue for me, when your dad is in the military you get used to it. This time it was different than any other time. My parents were divorcing and my mom was forcing me to move to a town with only 4,097 people opposed to my home in Virginia with 225,401 people.
Imagine yourself on a road trip to a place where the weather is different and the places are new to you. In a place where you only know family and no one else. A feeling like no other, that’s what I felt, knowing I was going to live in this new place.
I moved to Connecticut in the September of 2008 because my Dad had a job transfer. This was around the time that I started the second grade. I was introduced to so many people and they were all so nice to me. Six years later, I made countless friends and started to feel like Connecticut was where I wanted to stay forever. But in December of 2014, my Dad got a phone call from a company in South Jersey and they wanted him to work for them. At first, he worked 3 days in Camden, and the rest of the week in Connecticut. That was difficult though because we did not get to see him as often as we wanted to. My parents then sat my brother and I down and asked us if we wanted to move to South Jersey. I did not know what to think. After six years, I loved living in Connecticut and I wanted to stay there. They told us that it would be a lot easier to move down to Jersey instead of my dad traveling every week. My brother and I both agreed that this is what we are going to have to do. I can still remember that day though. It seemed liked the world was going to a scorching end. At least my world was. I started to tell my friends that
Moving from the South to the Midwest was a huge change in my life. For my whole life I grew up to the southern hospitality and the tang of salt in the air since the beach was always less than 5 minutes away wherever I lived. Now I moved to a place where they flip you off to say hi, and the closest thing to an ocean is a sea of grass that seems to go on forever. Although I am now adapted to the change for the most part, it took me awhile to break in to the social norms of an average Midwest kids.
I really don't know how to say what I am going to say. But I'm going to try the best that I can. I am really thinking that me taking the Grand Rapids store was a bad decision for me to make. A lot of it is because of the pay. Over the last two or so weeks I have paid more in gas than the raise that I was given. So right now I am losing money going to work. If I would have know it would have been anything like this I would have turned it down. I would have loved to move to Grand Rapids but there isn't any places for me and my family to move to as of right now. The earliest a opening was coming was sometime in November and that wasn't a guarantee that I would get it. And I am not in the position to wait that long. The ones that they did have
Many of the harsh dilemmas I encountered that were directly related to me conceding to abuse alcohol, existed well in advance of my decision to relocate to Atlanta, Ga. In fact, from what I'm able to ascertain by way of reliable sources, including my wife, is that my primary motive for leaning more towards this decision was to find help for the perils and perplexed conditions in which my life had twirled into. Initially, though I was unable to interpret the chaotic turn of events, or the uncivil behaviors I came to embrace, it appeared that everyone else around me were solely aware of them and were also jointly convinced that the only way out for me was to seek professional guidance. Their wrath about me drinking as heavily as I did were
I find myself looking over my shoulder every time I step outside my front door. Violence has opened my eyes and destroyed my dreams of peace. When I first moved to Philadelphia from Puerto Rico, I moved into a neighborhood that was full of gangs and drugs. Philadelphia represented a new start, a chance for me to breathe again. I had experienced a tragic shooting right before my ten year old eyes in Puerto Rico; my mom’s best friend was killed, while the murderer calmly walked away. We escaped to Philadelphia, and I thought my days of witnessing horrific violence were over. However, my dreams were shattered like gunshots in the night. One day, while I was napping, I was awoken by a series of deafening pops. As soon as I heard them, I dropped
Roughly four years ago I moved to Buffalo with my mom and two sisters, best move ever. Before then I had lived in Rochester, or to be more specific, Brockport. My childhood house was big and gray. It had a huge yard and very long driveway. However, my house in Brockport is not my home. I call home my green and white Tudor styled Kenmore house. It has a small green yard and a short driveway. It has been the best part of my life because of all the opportunities that were missed out on when you live so far away. Here in Buffalo I have the opportunity to go the high school where my mom, aunts, grandma, cousins, and sisters all graduated from. For now my job is going to that high school, but the second I turn sixteen, I will be working as a cashier at the dashes down the street from my home, a little family tradition. The reason I moved though, is hands down the most awful thing to happen to me or that can happen to a little kid, like I was at the time.
It was June of 2013 and I was in my room cooling, watching “Good Luck Charlie”. My mom came into my room saying that she was ready to move out of New York. Obviously I did not want to move out of the city I was born in. My mom never liked living in New York, so she always thought about moving. So the plan was to move in August. Time went by and I was thinking about what North Carolina would be like. I really wasn’t thinking about the friends I was leaving in Brooklyn, that never crossed my mind.
January 2015, I moved to Bothell, Washington from Kirkland, Washington. Moving to a new city means moving to a new school. I did not like that idea. I already had a bunch of friends in Kirkland, I couldn't just leave them out of the blue like that. Plus, it was in the middle of the school year.
Moving to Atlanta was a massive milestone that helped me with a lot of personal growth. I know that might not be as amazing as winning the lottery, but to me it was. Moving 20 minutes away from your old home doesn’t sound that bad right? Not until you find out that you are now living in a new district where you are welcomed into a new environment. That includes going to a new school, being in a new neighborhood and basically starting all over. My mom wanted to get away from the crowd and live in a home with more privacy. This move made me learn how to adjust to new settings.
It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice