moving to Memphis:
Within a week of finding out my dad was gone forever, me along with my eight brothers and sisters, my recently widowed ( and pregnant ) mom, and a handful of personal items left the comfort of our small Charleston, home and were packed up in a van and shipped off to Memphis, Tennessee to start a new life. The wound of my father's death was still so raw that I refused to accept that the strange city of Memphis was my new home, and that somehow my father was alive and well, and all we needed to do was go back to Charleston and be with him. And as days in Memphis turned to weeks ,and then months, the realization and acceptance of my new life set in, and I began to embrace Memphis as my new home. as the years passed I made
When I was 7 years, I moved from my home in Australia to the other side of the planet to Dallas Texas. When I heard that I was moving, I felt a wave of despair wipe over me. As Taylor says “I have never in my own memory been outside of Kentucky” (Kingsolver 12). This was the same for me since I had never been
It was the fall of 2010 and little did I know that my world was about to change drastically. We had moved back to Kenosha, Wisconsin in 2008 after living in Mexico, and I was starting to enjoy my life in the dairy state. My 6th Grade classes had just started at Bullen Middle School. It was right at this time when my world seemingly got flipped upside down. My parents had a family meeting and informed my siblings and me that we were moving to a small Iowa town called Orange City. I had feelings of nervousness, excitement, and sadness all mixed together.
Many folks go their whole lives without having to move. For them it is easy; they know the same people, have loads of friends, and never have to move away from their families. As with me, I was in a different situation. I grew up my entire life, all eighteen years of it, in a small town called Yorktown, Virginia. In my attempt to reach out for a better life style, my girlfriend and I decided we were going to move to Shreveport, Louisiana. Through this course of action, I realized that not two places in this country are exactly alike. I struggled with things at first, but I found some comforts of home here as well.
My childhood growing up in Kansas was like a whole other world compared to my life now. Kansas is where one goes to watch the wheat grow, not raise a family. No one could convince my dad otherwise though. Recently divorced and newly married, he brought his two children from his previous marriage, my brother and me, to Kansas to be with his young pregnant bride. There awaited a promising new job and a whole new life for us all.
I spent most of my life surrounded by fragrant pine trees, rocky mountains, and sometimes extremely cold winters. At least one year ago, my family and I moved to a place that is the exact opposite of Colorado which was Phoenix, Arizona. Months before moving, we got rid of all clothing that resembled winter apparel because we all knew it was not going to be needed again. When moving to a new location, it the time to embrace new change, different cultures and certainly different weather climates.
In August 2005, at the tender age of 7, I received the most devastating news. I was told by my family that a hurricane was coming to my city, New Orleans, Louisiana. Because of this storm, Hurricane Katrina, I was told that I would most likely have to move away for a long time, meaning the rest of my life. My family and I lost everything, and the hurricane ended up destroying the entire city completely. This was heartbreaking to me for a plethora of reasons, including that I lost loved ones and was separated from the rest of my family at such an early age. This ravaging storm marked the most drastic change of my life.
The day I moved away, a lot of things were going through my young mind. As I took my last look at my home, I remembered all the fun times I had with my family and friends through out my life. Now I was moving 800 miles away from all of that with no insight on what lied ahead for me. As my family and I drove away from our Michigan home, I looked out the window wondering what Virginia would be, and what my friends were doing. A lot of things were going through my mind at the time. At the time my main worry was if I would make any friends, and how I would adjust to everything. During the whole drive down, my mother would often let me know that everything would be all right and I would like it. Trying to be strong and hold back my tears, I just shook my head no, wondering why we had to move so far away. Life would be different for me and I knew it would.
When I was four years old my father left home. Not only he changed neighborhood or town but he left the country. It may seem that I was too young to notice his absence, but the truth is that this changed my life completely. I was quite close to my father and even today I can remember the emptiness that I felt in my chest. At four years of age I did not realize that behind the story of his departure was one of the greatest life lessons that he taught me.
Suddenly, I was put out of my “comfort” zone. Because my dad got a new job, I moved from a small city called Eugene to a big city called Portland. Me, along with my four other siblings, were put into a tiny private school with
When I was nine years old, my parents, two siblings, and uncle decided that it was time for us to move from Missouri up to chilly Massachusetts. Both my uncle and father were construction workers. There were so many projects in Massachusetts, it was sensible for us to move. Financially, this was also the solution to our money problems. All around we were all very excited for this move, all except for myself. About halfway to Massachusetts, I had a gut feeling that this was a bad decision. Upon arrival, I felt like a fish out of water and, I was. Everything was so different compared to how Missouri was.
I remember the deep breath they took before spitting out the words that would leave a permanent scar implanted in my mind whenever the word move came up again.
I was born and raised in Buffalo, New York and it’s all I’ve ever known. When I was younger my parents took me on little short trips like, Toronto and Columbus, Ohio. I was young, so I didn’t really remember a lot that was going on or different about the two places. When I got older, I decided I wanted a change in my life but did not know what or where. In September of 2003, I was invited to my cousin’s wedding in Charlotte, North Carolina. I decided to go and when I did, I did not want to return back to Buffalo. Of course, I had to come back to Buffalo because I was only visiting. I had made up in my mind right then, Charlotte, North Carolina was the place for my children and me. I decided to move to Charlotte before Christmas of that year. My experiences were years to remember. I stayed in Charlotte for a total of seven years. During the years I had been living in Charlotte, my most memorable experiences were the weather and the commuting.
Getting into that moving truck and watching my mother and sisters faces fade away in the passenger side mirror made my heart sink into my stomach. Was I making the right choice, and would I be happy if I were away from my family? All I had ever known was the love of my mom and my sister to guide me through the rough rapid waters of my mind. The truck consisted of all our worldly belongings along with what felt like every one of my childhood memories struggling to hang on dragging on the back of the trucks coat tails. As we drove, we passed all the places that hold such meaning to me in my life. I couldn't help but be upset California was where I was my heart was made, and how was I supposed to go to a new place and feel like it was home?
I was born in Jackson, Mississippi, and lived in a small town on the outskirts of Jackson, where everybody knew everybody. It was there where I learned about God, life, and how to be a southern lady. I have a lot of memories of living in Mississippi. There is one memory that sticks out more than any others.
Everything seems like it’s falling out of place, it’s going too fast, and my mind is out of control. I think these thoughts as I lay on my new bed, in my new room, in this new house, in this new city, wondering how I got to this place. “My life was fine,” I say to myself, “I didn’t want to go.” Thinking back I wonder how my father felt as he came home to the house in Stockton, knowing his wife and kids left to San Diego to live a new life. Every time that thought comes to my mind, it feels as if I’m carrying a ten ton boulder around my heart; weighing me down with guilt. The thought is blocked out as I close my eyes, picturing my old room; I see the light brown walls again and the vacation pictures of the Florida and camping trip stapled to them. I can see the photo of me on the ice rink with my friends and the desk that I built with my own hands. I see my bed; it still has my checkered blue and green blanket on it! Across from the room stands my bulky gray television with its back facing the black curtain covered closet. My emotions run deep, sadness rages through my body with a wave of regret. As I open my eyes I see this new place in San Diego, one large black covered bed and a small wooden nightstand that sits next to a similar closet like in my old room. When I was told we would be moving to San Diego, I was silenced from the decision.