Personal Narrative: Moving Into My New House

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Growing up in the same neighborhood for eighteen years can truly shape a person. I know this because I experienced it firsthand. I was only five years old when we packed up our belongings and moved right down the street. I do not remember a lot about the first house although, according to my parents, there was never a dull moment. I still remember the day we moved into my new house, the one my parents and sister still live in today. I had just started kindergarten, and I remember feeling anxious the entire day just wondering what was waiting for me at the new house. Was it big? Did I have a trampoline? What color was my wallpaper? The moment my mom picked me up from school that day I was suddenly relieved from all of my worries. I knew the

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