Five years ago, my family was sitting quietly in the living room when my father announced that we were moving. That moment was one of the saddest memories in my life. The fear of new strangers and new environments, and the pang of sadness when I realized how much we would be leaving behind. All my childhood memories would be lost and forgotten there, just to hold another family's new memories.
After hearing the news, my brother and I sat still, not knowing how to react but through the shock, we debated whether to tell our friends or keep it to ourselves. But as hard as we tried to keep it a secret, one world would slip after another; "We're moving." What's worse is that we were leaving our friends to attend a school in a town we've never even heard of, and as we packed up our precious memories the anxiety of the new life ahead never faded.
The first night in the new place was like stepping into a ghost town; there were no neighbors, an empty dirt lot sat desolated across the street, and there weren't any sounds other than the silent rustle of the trees. The house stood empty and quiet waiting for us to fill it with new memories. In slow motion, we filled our rooms with the boxes containing our treasures, sitting awkwardly in empty rooms, they felt cold and out of place as sadness washed over us again like cool waves at the beach. Struggling to fall asleep, I watched the stars and airplanes light up the dark sky and hoped everything wasn't as bad as it seemed. And as the days in the new town dragged on, our sadness was soon replaced with the excitement of the new life ahead of us.