Personal Narrative: A New Home

Personal Narrative- A New Home

My heart beat at a rabbit's pace as I walked up the cement steps to a small building set on a hill. I took a deep breath in an effort to allow even a sliver of calm to permeate the sense of dread that engulfed my mind and body. I stole a quick glance at my two younger sisters, briefly grateful that I didn't have to face this completely alone. I walked through the front doors to the office directly inside. The secretary directed me to a room off to the right, which turned out to be a library. I sat down at a long table filled with about a dozen miniscule chairs where I sat, albeit uncomfortably, and awaited instruction. A man was sitting at thins table holding a sheaf of papers, which he indicated that I was to fill out. I took the forms with a shaking hand as he handed me a pen.

When I finished filling out the forms and returned them to the man, four strange-looking girls entered the library and stood there, staring at me with their friendly, yet critical eyes. I lowered my own eyes to the table in shame, feeling intensely out of place. A slight tremor ran through my body as though it wanted to run away whether or not my mind was conscious of this action. Shouted thoughts ran through my spinning head: "Where am I?" "What am I doing here?" "Why aren't I home, surrounded by things familiar to me instead of in this strange, formidable place with these critical-looking people?"

It is Spring Break 1999, and we are on the road somewhere between Gresham, OR, and Crawford, CO. I wish I could be like most kids, who were busy celebrating the week off by hanging out with friends and taking trips to the mall. But no. Today is Friday, and my mom, my two younger sisters, and I are busy moving halfway...

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...le my notebooks and threw them out into the hall, etc. Overall, my first day wasn't anything like I expected it to be.

I figured that my life had ended when we arrived in Colorado, but reality proved quite the contrary, while my life in Oregon had ended, there was a whole new one waiting for me here. Although I never would have thought it possible, I actually fit in with these 'small town people,' and I made some very good friends during the time I spent at Crawford School. Of course there will always be those whom I have daydreams of kicking the living snot out of, but the friends I made at Crawford were just as funny, kind, and interesting as any I had in Oregon. After getting over the initial shock of being thrown into a completely foreign situation, I knew that Colorado was beginning to take the place in my life that Oregon had once held so steadfastly.