Leaving My Old Home

By Zander, age 11

It all began on a very average November day. After returning from a road trip in our campervan, Tiny, I overheard my parents. “Tiny is so small, yet so comfortable.” said mom. “I know, right?,” responded dad, “This house feels so…big,” finished dad. “Compared to our giant five bedroom, four bathroom, two-level house; our one bedroom, one bathroom, one-level campervan seems so…puny,” said mom. “I know, right?” dad replied. “Wait a sec…are you thinking what I’m thinking?” mom said. “We could…,” mom and dad shouted in unison, “move!” “Move?” I asked, mystified. “Yeah!” dad said. “We could buy a house with a lot more land.” “We could downsize quite a bit, too.” said mom.

Just like that, we started getting ready to move. We started purging and things sold faster than you can say “move.” March first, our move day, was approaching so quickly! On February 28th, we sat down for our last meal in our home.

The next day, it was sad to say goodbye to my neighbors I had grown up with. Although I was sad to leave, I knew I would meet new friends wherever we moved. Even if they weren’t the same.

Although I was sad to leave, I knew I would meet new friends wherever we moved. Even if they weren’t the same.