by Kelly Monteith

Created on: December 09, 2008

"But I don't want to move". I screamed as I ran down the hall, towards my bedroom.My father had arrived home from work to inform us we were moving to another city.We had lived in the small Ontario town for nine years and I had many friends I did not wish to be a part from. "Just think of the new friends you'll make when we move". My mother replied as I slammed my door in disgust.

This is not the first time my family has had to pick up and move.I think this is the second time, once when I was a baby, but my older sisters told me how much they hated the thought of leaving their friends.Now I was able to voice my opinion, little good that it did me, for I knew no matter what I said or did nothing was going to change, my sisters and I would have to go with our parents.

"Can't we live with grandma and grandpa?" Asked my older sister.All three of us looked at our parents, thinking what an excellent idea."We could help around the house, do chores and what not.We don't want to move, can't we stay here?"

My father looked at us, and with a sympathetic look suddenly said "No, I'm sorry and that's my final word?. That was it, no more trying to convince him he was making a terrible mistake, we would start packing on the weekend.This was the first time I wished the weekend would not come.

Saturday morning and both our parents are packing dishes and glassware, our grandparents also there to do what they can.Sleepy-eyed I walk in the kitchen rubbing the sleep from my eyes.What I thought was a dream was reality, we really were moving.My father dragged in more cardboard boxes, while my mother quickly filled them up. I never realized how much stuff we had.

"You had better get yourself some breakfast and start packing your things in your room". My mother looked over at me as I stared in disbelief at the thought of actually moving.I nodded and turned to find something to eat.After that I made my way to my room.I stuck my head in my sister's room to see what she was doing and found folding her clothes and putting them in a pile, with for our father to bring her a box.

In the middle of the living room we sat, boxes piled everywhere.My father walked in and seeing his kids looking sad sat down beside us and put his arms around us.

"When do we leave dad". I asked. "Wednesday morning". He replied, which really didn't give us a lot of time to say goodbye.

New school, new friends, deep down inside I hoped this would be the last time we'd move.My father explained to us the reasons why we had to leave so soon.His job required him to, which meant more money and something called "job security".We didn't know what this meant, my mother did, so she seemed pretty pleased.

It would soon be time to say goodbye.We say we'll call, or we'll write, which we do, but then when you start to make new friends you sometimes forget about the old ones.Moving from a small town to a big city can be quite a shock, so our parents told us what to expect when we got there.I am the last one to get in the car.I hear my mother calling me to get in, but my feet won't move.

Finally I turn and head toward the car, driving off I can't help but look back at the house I've lived in for twelve years.But wait, I have returned, this house is mine, for now I own it and I do not plan to move from again.

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