When mom and dad finally decided that rather than plotting how they would kill one another, it would be a great idea to just go their separate ways. After all, both of them were from small rural towns where everybody knew everything about their neighbor, and neither could bare the thought of a bad reputation linked to murder. My brother and I were given the choice as to which parent we'd "rather" live with. For me, the choice was much harder than for my brother - who I still refer to as a suckling to this day. Since my brother was obviously going to stay with our mother, I chose to stay with my dad.

When I decided to stay with my dad, I pictured us moving into a big country home, similar to the one we already stayed in, and living happily ever after. I pictured a green pasture with horses that my dad would buy me immediately upon request, and a tire swing that all the kids would envy for a country mile. Much to my dismay, my father's plans were much different from my own. Though he and my mother fought incessantly, the divorce had left him bitter and dejected. He wanted nothing to do with the town they had started a family in. He sent his resume all across the United States and two weeks later we were moving boxes into a tiny house, with a wonderful city sidewalk view.

I pouted and moaned, kicked and scream, bargained and bribed, but nothing was going to stop my dad from living in the city. The sound of cars honking their horn, and the sweet smell of emissions was everywhere. The house my dad chose was a noticeably pricier than the others on the block, but the only that I noticed was half a foot of grass that stood between our doorsteps and the pavement. I was born in the country, and loved the smell of freshly mowed grass. Running through a tall cornfield was my idea of fun, but here - there were no cornfields in sight.

After settling into our new home, and a few near death experiences in an effort to tour our new town, my dad agreed that the city life was much different from the life we were used to. He was well aware of my fondness to the outdoors, and wanted to make the transition a little easier. The next day I awoke to my dad hovering over me. I pulled the covers over my head and advised him that it was creepy to watch someone sleep - please go away. He nudged me incessantly, pointing outside. "We've got work to do, pumpkin. We've got to make this house a home, and I need your help." He said. I rolled my eyes beneath the covers, still sour

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