Moving On

Age Four

It was a typical, sunny California day. I was outside playing with my two next-door neighbors and best buddies, Jesse and Sarah, when my dad came home from work. I ran to greet him, as I always did. I hugged him, but was careful not to wrinkle his army uniform. He would always tell me how important it was to keep it neat and clean. For as far back as I can remember, my dad was in the army. I think he joined right before he married my mother. After my dad hugged me, he told me that he and my mom wanted to talk to me. I said goodbye to Jesse and Sarah and went inside. My mom and dad were sitting down at the kitchen table when I came in. I took a seat across from them. My parents then explained to me that we had to move, because my dads job was transferring him to Colorado. Four years old is hardly the age to understand having to move away, but I was upset at the thought of leaving my friends. My parents reassured me by telling me that I would make new friends and would be able to visit the old ones. I looked forward to my new life in Colorado.

Age Five

The house we moved into was a lot bigger than our old home. It had two floors, a basement, and a garage. My dad went to work, my mom took care of my new baby brother, and I started kindergarten. That first day of kindergarten was a little scary because I didnt know anyone. In preschool, back in Cali, I had known everyone in my class. My kindergarten class had two teachers, instead of one. They were both very nice and put a lot of effort into getting to know me. By the time I came home that day, I loved my teachers and I had made a few friends from class. Time went by quickly. The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months.

From time to time, I asked my parents if we could go back and visit Jesse and Sarah. They always changed the subject or said that they were busy. Since I couldn't visit them, I thought maybe they could visit me. I asked my parents f or their address so that I could write to them. I wrote them a letter. They wrote back a week later. They weren't able to come and visit either. To get over my disappointment, I tried one more time to ask my parents if we could visit Jesse and Sarah. My mom told me well see. Thinking, well see, meant maybe in mom language, I held onto a little hope.

We had been in Colorado for several months now. I had really gotten into the swing of things. I exchanged letters with Jesse and Sarah at least once a month. I loved going to school, I loved my teachers, and I loved my classmates. I had a play date almost every day of the week. The best part was that my mom didnt have to drive me to them. All my play dates lived in the same neighborhood as me. I continued to exchange letters with Jesse and Sarah.

One night my dad called us all into the living room. We sat around the coffee table. My mom and dad, both, had serious expressions on their faces. I felt a little nervous, be cause I thought they had found out about the glass vase I had broken. I took a deep breath and waited for my dad to start yelling. However, there was no yelling. Instead, my dad told us that his job was transferring him to Maryland. We had to move again. My parents told me that they had already picked out a house and that I would love it there. I was upset, but after they finished talking to me, I looked forward to our new home.

Age Six

Our next house was not as big as the one in Colorado, but it was bigger than the one in California. The neighborhood was bigger. It even had a playground and a pool. I was starting first grade. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were my age, so I often saw them at school. I heard from Jesse and Sarah every now and then. I wrote them when I could.

I didnt like my first grade teacher as much as I had liked my kindergarten teachers. In fact, I didnt like her at all. She always wrote my name on the board for talking in class. I got my name written on the board in all my classes. None of the other kids would get reprimanded for talking. I was always singled out or at least it seemed that way to me. Some of the teachers called my parents. My parents put me on punishment quite often. At least my grades were good. Despite my behavior, I made the honor roll.

Age Seven

Starting the second grade had a weird feel to it, because I was in the same school that I was when I was in first grade. I didnt like my second grade teacher either. I got along well with my classmates, which led me to the same problem as before: talking in class. I think I held the record for my name being on the board the most. I even had to have a parent-teacher conference. My parents continued to put me on punishment. Nevertheless, I still made the honor roll.

Age Eight

I had just started the third grade, we were two weeks into the school year, when I got the news. I barely got a chance to know my teachers and classmates, when my parents sat me down for a talk. After being in Maryland for nearly three years, we were moving again. This time we were moving to Texas. I made straight As in Geography, so I knew that Texas was at the other end of the country. I also knew that I would never see any of my friends again.

At one point, I asked my parents when we were going to stop moving and stay in one place. My father said that when he retired, we would find a good home and stay there. I then asked him when he was going to retire. My father simply replied, Soon. And that was the end of that discussion.

Age Eight

I was still in the third grade when we moved to Texas. Our new home was not ready yet and we didn't have a place to stay, so we had to stay in a hotel. The next day, my father went to work and I was off to another first day of school. I was brought into class by the guidance counselor and introduced to the class. After the class murmured their hellos, the guidan ce counselor left. The teacher urged me to take a seat and told me that I had a lot of work to catch up on. Great. After class, only one student in the class came up and talked to me. I cant think of her name now, because a week later I was transferred to another school. Our new home was ready, and it was in a different school district. The house was small; it only had two bedrooms. My brother and I had to share a room. Three different schools all in one grade. Wow. That must be some kind of record.

The new school was okay. After a few days, I was well acquainted with my classmates and my teachers. Although I had many friends in the school, I also had enemies. Soon I found myself in the principals office for fighting. My parents were furious. However, not only did I still make the honor roll, but I had also received many academic rewards.

Age Nine

We moved again. We still lived in the same city, but we moved across town. We moved into a bigger house with a small backyard. Our new home was in, yet another, school district, so I had to start fourth grade at a different school. I missed my old school, but this one was a lot nicer. My teacher was nice and my classmates were friendly. Even the principal was nice. I continued to make friends and make the honor roll, despite a few fights and parent-teacher conferences.

Looking back, this was the happiest I had ever been. The school was one of the highest rated schools in America and I excelled in all my subjects there. I also got to do something I had never done before. I became a girl scout. I guess it sounds silly to have been excited over that, but we had never been anywhere long enough for me to be a part of any group or organization. Even if we had stayed somewhere that long, my parents were too busy to take me anywhere. My father worked long hours and my mother was always taking care of my baby brother. I had made friends with all the girls in my troop and earned five pat ches.

When summer came, I was excited about starting fifth grade in the fall. However, my excitement was short-lived. After two years of living in Texas, my dad announced that he was retiring from the army and he had accepted a job in Virginia. I felt betrayed. I thought that when my dad left the army, we wouldnt have to move again. But it had been a lie. I was tired of moving. After my father explained his new job, I was still fed the same garbage from my parents about how I would love our new home. I was tired of being the new girl. I asked myself why I even bothered making friends if I was just going leave them and forget them anyway. My parents told me that I would like Virginia and I would make lots of new friends there. I refused to believe that. They tried telling me how beautiful it was there and how much there was to do. My parents could clearly see I was not buying it. They told me not to be upset. I began to cry.

Age Ten

Fifth grade wasnt as exci ting as I thought it would be. I didnt like my teacher. Actually, I hated my teacher and I hated the school. I also hated the apartment we lived in. It was too small. I hated my bedroom. It was too small. I hated our new car. It was too small. I had noticed that, since the move, a lot of my things were gone. My mother said that we had lost many of our things in the move. All of the other kids in our new neighborhood had bikes. I asked for a bike. My father said that we did not have a lot of money. I became angry with my parents for bringing us here. We had had plenty of money before. I hated Virginia. I didn't attempt to make any friends because I knew we wouldn't be staying long. I was miserable. I wallowed around in my own self pity.

I hadnt heard from Jesse and Sarah in ages. The letters stopped coming and I had stopped Writing. It was inevitable because we were bound to lose touch sooner or later. We hadnt seen each other in nearly six years. We had grown up a lot and we were different now. I no longer believed in long distance relationships and I doubted that I ever would.

I didn't do well in school at all. I was constantly being reprimanded by my teacher and fighting with my classmates. I got my first C, then D, then F. For the first time ever, I did not make the honor roll. I fought with my parents a lot and resented them. I didnt have any lifelong friends like everyone else. No best friends. No boyfriends. No friends at all.

Present Day

When people ask me where Im from, I tell them Im from Virginia. After all, it is where I have spent most of my life. I consider myself a southerner and I am very proud to be one. It really is a beautiful place to live; my parents were right about that.

We moved two more times in Virginia, before we finally bought a house. A nice big house with five bedrooms and three bathrooms. A place my parents still call home. My father had finally found a good paying job and we could aff ord to have nice things again.

As for me, after getting off to a rocky start, I eventually got back on track. It took me a few years though. It wasnt until I started high school that I realized that we were staying here in Virginia, permanently. My grades improved tremendously. By the time I was ready to graduate, I had several college recruiters beating down my door. I had made lots of friends over the years. Friends that mean the world to me and that are still part of my life today.

When I headed off to college, it was harder for my parents than it was for me. To be honest, it wasnt hard for me at all. The school was not out of state, but it was three hours away. I was excited about going. When fall came, I packed my things, and my parents drove me to campus. As they were leaving, my father looked sad and my mother couldn't stop crying. I didn't shed one tear, nor was I the least bit worried. I knew I would adjust, I knew I would make friends, and I knew I woul d excel academically. After all, I had plenty of experience. I looked forward to starting at a new school and meeting new people. I was prepared for anything and everything, ready to take on the world. I didnt miss home and I developed many wonderful relationships.

Looking back, it was hard always having to adjust, but today I am grateful for the experience. Not everyone gets to see that much of the country. Some people spend their whole lives in one place. To me, the thought is incomprehensible. I also realized that all this time I never thought about how this affected my mother, or even my father. My father served his country and my mother stood faithfully beside him. Not once did she complain about having to move.

Today, I have utmost respect for my parents: my father for his dedication to his country and my mother for her dedication to her husband.

Mia Pleasant is an author on http://www.Writing.Com/ which is a site for Writers. Stop by and visit her p ort Mia's Portfolio.

Author:: Mia Pleasant
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