Personal Narrative: Moving Into My Home

I moved into my home when I was about 4. They house we used to live in was going to be too small once me and my sister, Mira, got older. I was very sad that we were leaving the house I had lived in my whole life. I had many fond memories for it, such as my dad building a playing structure for me and my sister. I remember thinking that I had a say in which house we were going to buy, and I thought that I had a part in making such an important decision, which I know now is preposterous, but I felt proud to be making choices. I remember missing my old house, with the play house that my dad made, and the stairs up to my bedroom, which seemed so tall. This new house had no stairs. I remember meeting our new neighbors, Manny, who really like vintage pinball machines
I missed that house, but at the same time, I really liked the new friends I had made in my new neighborhood, like Bo and Cole. They were a few year older than me. I was good friends with them for a while, and we would hang out almost every day. Eventually, when they got older, they realized how much younger I was, and they became annoyed with me. That is when they started being mean to me, and I was so young I didn’t really realize it. They starting making fun of me and stuff, and it got to the point where my mom had to make me stop playing with them. At the time I was so young i didn’t even know that I was being taken advantage of but looking back on I can see that they were being very mean to me. Another friend that I made was Tim. He was closer to my age, but still a year older. He quickly became my best friend, and everyday after school as he was walking home from the bus stop he would stop at my house and have a smoothie that my mom made and cheese and crackers. After that we would climb a tree in my backyard. We had a lot of fond memories from that. As you can see, where I lived dictated a lot about who I was friends with and what was happening in my