“What do you think of moving to Philadelphia?” was the question that started everything. At first I was all for the idea. I thought it would be so fun to meet new people and go to a new place. I felt like it would some kind of a new start for me. At the time, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal and I didn’t think it really would happen. But when the call came that guaranteed my dad’s new job, reality hit me. I thought about all the things I would miss: the house I was raised in; the neighborhood I grew up playing in; the places I visited on a daily basis; all my amazing friends I had come to known; the activities that I did all the time; the nature that was unlike any other place I’d known; everything about it. Then I started crying and couldn’t control myself. I wanted to be supportive and strong for my dad, but I couldn’t help being upset. It was such big news, and though it was not unexpected, I just couldn’t grasp the idea of moving. I immediately called my best friend and told her the news between my sobs. Fortunately she lived near me, so I told my parents I was going to visit her, even though it was 8:30 on a Tuesday night. I walked over, we had big bowls of ice cream, and talked about anything and everything else. She comforted me and assured me that everything would turn out fine. The plan was that we were only moving for a year, but that didn’t change the fact that we were still moving. I kept it a secret from everyone else at school. I didn’t want anyone to know that I would be moving in a little over a month. I have no idea why, but I just felt like it wasn’t that important to anyone. When I did tell people, all of my friends seemed just as sad as I was. We tried to spend every second we could together, and in as many different places as possible. I wanted to have a summer I would remember, filled will inside jokes and exciting events. My whole summer wasn’t all smiles and laughs though, because the list of things to do was never-endingly long. We had to figure out whether to sell or rent the house, paint every wall in every room, and fix everything that is wrong such as three broken windows, two broken door handles, and four broken towel racks. Plus, we had to pack up the kitchen, the living rooms, the guest room, the storage room, the master bedroom, the kid’s bedrooms, the office, the garage, and everything else. On top of that, my dad had piles and piles of paperwork to do, filing cabinets to go through, applications to fill, calls to make, and he didn’t have any free time to do anything. It was a long summer.

I didn’t realize all that I had until I lost it. The move really made me think a lot, about everything. As I walked through my neighborhood, or drove through town, I started thinking of all the memories that were made there. When I hung out with a friend or went to a party, I started to think of how much we have all grew and changed together. Memories came rushing back to me, all at once and I couldn’t help but beg my parents not to leave. I fell in love with the people, the nature, the history, the atmosphere, and everything else. I was in a good place, with people that I care about around me.

The move also made me realize that I need to appreciate my family more. When everything around me seemed to be falling out of place, I knew that all my family members were going through the same thing. It wasn’t just me. They are there to support me, and I need to support them. We have to stick together through good times and bad. I don’t mean to sound corny, but it is so true.