Moving

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It was December, 2004 and I’d just received very disappointing news. We were moving. Although I wasn’t completely shocked, I was upset. Every single school year for one reason or another, we ended up moving and I was sick of it. I’d never had a school year that I could go in and have old friends. I always had to make new ones. I always ended up being the new kid. I made friends easily but that wasn’t the point. I didn’t want to always have to make new friends. I wanted old friends that I could laugh about something that happened the previous year with. I wanted to have a million inside jokes like everyone else did. But it didn’t look like that would happen that year either. It seemed that I had no choice but in reality I did. I had an aunt that didn’t exactly live in the area but I could stay with her until the end of my 6th grade year. I was ecstatic that I’d be staying at North Brandywine Middle School but it seemed to fade away after I was moved in with my aunt, uncle, and their four foster children. As if it weren’t bad enough, me being virtually all alone, I was also worked like a dog and constantly being bothered by a 10 year old girl who thought I was the older sister she’d never had. She would steal my razors, ask me to borrow shoes and clothes and ask for advice on her little 4th grader problems. She was annoying beyond belief and was the exact embodiment of why I didn’t want a little sister. I got through it, though, because I knew I had to in order to stay with my friends. They were some of the best people I’ve ever met. They were the best friends I’d ever had but as the end of the year drew nearer, it was apparent what was happening; I was running out of time. I was running out of time with my teachers, my friends, the school, everything. The last day of school came, though, like I knew it would, and that was it. I gave my goodbyes, pounds, and hugs, told everyone I loved them and that I’d call them and left for Lancaster.





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