Personal Narrative: We Are Moving

The word “moving” has many definitions. It can be understood as producing strong emotions of sadness, or it can be related to the process of changing one’s residence. It was not until my family moved, that I understood that sometimes it can mean both at the same time.
From what I remember, it seemed to be just another cold, winter night in a small town that I used to call home. The streets diced the suburban neighborhoods into uneven pieces in which children sled and played with no worries. I was playing with my siblings outside, when my mom came outside and told us she had life-changing news. As my two siblings and I stumbled in the house, taking off our snow gear and gathering around our dinner table, I could not help but notice that my parents seemed to be very nervous in the news that they were about to give. As a young kid, the following words I heard were probably the most significant words I have heard to date and those words were, “We are moving”.
As I was crying in my mother’s lap, I looked out the window, memorizing the Wisconsin skyline of pine trees and farm houses, that I would eventually only recognize by old pictures within a dusty box, in an attic somewhere across the country. The following weeks were very different, due to the fact that those were the last weeks that I have spent with my childhood friends since I moved to Arizona, six years ago. Although I cannot remember a lot, I do remember that it hurt. After we moved, I was reluctant to make new friends, thinking that long distance relationships were an easy task. But after a few months, I stopped writing letters, making phone calls, and sending emails, and decided that if I wanted to make new friends I had to move