Personal Narrative: When We Moving

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! There was a knock the door late at night. There was a letter, it was from the manager at the sunny slope apartments. The next morning we opened the letter. It said we were getting evicted. We didn’t know why. But we knew what it meant, we had to move! We were so worried, because we didn’t know where we could move or even worst of all we didn’t know if we were going to have to move a different school. I had been at that school my whole life, and known all of my friends there.

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

Moving, for many people, can be a difficult process. A lot of the time kids have to switch schools and deal with the challenge of making new friends and getting used to everything new. Since my parents divorced when I was five years old, I can remember living in many different homes. My mother would rent out a place, live there for a few months, then meet a new guy and move on. For years, I hoped to myself that my mom and dad would get back together, like Nick and Elizabeth Parker from “The Parent Trap.” I knew, however, deep down that such a thing just couldn’t happen. My four siblings and I were dragged along, forced to go with the flow and adapt as quickly as possible. Up till she married her second husband, Tony. As young as I was,

and not be here tomorrow cause I got to move i'm getting all my stuff back and all that cool stuff well I was really disappointed when my mom didn't sign the hoverboard so I could ride it hopefully I will get my xbox back today our house is pretty big my room is a bit smaller than the old one but they look the same I hope this day goes fast school is so boring and games are cool rgh xbox no one no what that even means it is like a modded xbox and you could hack the games and have mod menus and all that cool stuff it is really hard to do i looked up like 50 videos on how to do it and I finally figured it out it take a while to do but it's worth it and it is fun but if you know my house burned down.

I want to leave, I want to disappear. Not a vacation, but that spontaneous quick escape with no bothers, just an unrestricted trip to free the mind and enjoy the bits of silence. To go by car to see how the scenery around me changes as I kill the distance, while listening to my favorite music as loud as I can. Just shout out my lungs with my terrible singing. As the music plays, I will grab a book, which will get all my beliefs and views away. No matter what the book will be about. As long as it would get me away, away from here. There would be just me and the characters of the novel, who struggle, fight, and compete, while they face delight, pleasure, and glory. Every so often, I will stop at the cafes on the road to grab some food, which

I guess you could call me a package because I am constantly being shipped around-five countries, twelve houses, eight schools in sixteen years. Consistently moving every two or three years is a lot to handle but somehow I have figured out a way to make it work, especially when it comes to packing up my room. Most people pack their room in ten to fifteen boxes over the course of one to two weeks unlike me who takes over two months to pack three small boxes. It may seem like a small amount of belongings could fit into three boxes which is true but I have learned to appreciate memories over objects. This perspective is very different than many millennials; however it is a major part of me.

I get down on all fours and relax my whole body, my bones begin to crack. Unlike most wolves, where it stops hurting awhile after your first shift. Mine shift didn't. It still hurts even though it has been six years (No. Our cloths they don't rip, and no. Don't ask me where they go)

It was my first year in Smithsburg High School, and I was surrounded by my friends I knew in middle school. Everything was going great with football games, the pep rally, and my friends. Then, Christmas came and I got a present that I wish was never under the tree--“We’re moving to Columbia, Maryland at the end of January” (for my mom's new job). I am not going to lie, I cried. I did not want to move from my comfort zone of rural Smithsburg to the urban-city of Columbia. However, the time came when I had to say goodbye to my friends and start a new life. After we moved into our new apartment, I started the rest of my freshman year at Long Reach High School.

Six consecutive second place, Science Fair trophies sit in the deepest, darkest, most isolated place in my house... my closet. Upon entering the closet, I’m automatically overwhelmed with a horrifying stench, a mixture of plastic, metal, and disappointment, also known as second place. Once the scent enters the nasal cavity, it immediately calls war upon the cerebellum, attacking strongly and injuring the motor cortex, thus creating a chill to run through my body, leaving me powerless and without words. After the chill, next follows the noise. Mockingly congratulates me, whispering “great job, you almost had it,” oh the humanity; “second place” repeatedly echoes in my ear until I escape the closet.

“This is a great experience, you’ll make so many new friends!” my parents told me excitedly

If I were to be able to take, one book, one food item, and one famous person, dead or alive, with me on a deserted island; I would take Where The Sidewalk Ends, by Shel Silverstein, a GIANT bag of broccoli, and Ben Domian, an Air Force Reserve Survivalist. I would guess that this deserted Island would have trees with fruit in them or coconut trees. I would also assume that the person I had chosen to bring with me, they would have the same three options, except they would have to choose me to go with them since they were already chosen. That being said, they would be able to bring food as well to sustain themselves and a book for entertainment. If we were to combine our resources, we would be able to survive until help comes. Compiling our resources could also mean that when we finish our book we could switch and read each other's books.

I have only one word: listen. Humans became so loud, shouting to be heard over everyone else. So concerned with ourselves, our jobs, our money, or the internet that we stopped paying attention to the pieces of nature around us, beautiful and ugly alike. We try so hard to fill our lives with meaning in the most unmeaningful of ways, promotions and new cars, when there’s so much more to living. The trees sing when the wind blows and we’re listening to the radio. Hermit crabs chirp, dolphins name themselves, prairie dogs have voices and we ignore it all in favor of Facebook What doesn’t directly affect us is blocked out or put on a back burner so we won’t think about it. We became so removed from the natural world we no longer notice what’s

On this rock there are a whole bunch of stars and hearts. They are all over the place, almost like sprinkles. There is a path that goes one house to another one that is far away from it. It makes my rock feel like home. It kind of smells like the way it smells at the end of summer. When everyone is starting to get ready for school to start, and it starts to cool down. It makes you remember to make time for the little things, because one day, you might look back and realize they were really the big things in your life. The stars represent all of the memories I have from Utah. All of the stars are spread out and have hearts in between them. Just like how most good moments in your life, are not all at the same time, they

I see a bright light my eyes feel stuck together like they don't want to open,soon enough I see clearly and start to see something grey with pointy ears. I turn to the other side of the bed and see my mom standing there waiting for me to get out of bed. I start to sit up as my mom starts to talk.

Life really doesn't like to tell you what's ahead; sometimes it's nice and gives you a little hint, sometimes life replays itself so at least there's some familiarity in it, but most of the time my life seems out of my control. As a fifteen year old many people would hear me say this and scoff saying I don't have 'real' problems, or I don't know what the 'real' world is like. On one hand they're right, I shouldn't know what the 'real' world is like, most fifteen year olds are thinking about what picture they Instagram is a 'real' world problem. But being the not-so-average teenager, I do know what this so called 'real' world is.