Moving

Nicole Oaks

I never understood how difficult it would be to leave the only place I called home. I always thought I would live the rest of my life in Anderson, California. One night at the dining room table I realized that all my hopes of growing up with my best friends and family were vanishing.

It was a typical school night at my house in January of 1992. My mother had set five place settings, and placed the spaghetti and garlic bread in the middle of the table. My two brothers and I talked of what had happened at school that day. Then my father stood up. He is not a big man, sort of short and on the bald side, but something in his standing up made me take my attention off my spaghetti and focus on him. My father’s face seemed scrunched up, like he had just taken a bite out of a lemon. He had never looked that way before, and I knew he had something important to say.

"We’re moving to Tennessee," he announced.

It felt as though someone had taken a hammer and was pounding my chest with it. I looked down at my plate and could feel my garlic bread coming back up. Perhaps I did not hear him right.

"Where?" I asked.

"Tennessee, where I used to live," he answered.

Why? I did not understand. I did not even know where on the map Tennessee was located. I just knew they had lots of rednecks and hillbillies.

As soon as I forced down the rest of my dinner and made it stay, I raced to my bedroom to call my best friend, Desirae. When she answered the phone, my throat tightened up on me, and tears were welling up in my eyes. How was I supposed to tell my best friend since kindergarten that I was leaving her? Finally, by some miracle, my throat opened, and I poured my heart out to her. After I finished, I waited for her reaction. Without even seeing her, I know she felt the same way I did. I did not want to leave her, or any of my friends for that matter. Making new friends can be difficult, and I was happy with the ones I had.

That night we held a family meeting, where my mother and father tried to explain their reasons for relocating us. My father explained it was a great place to grow up, after all, he grew up here. My mother told us how green and open the area is, and how we have never seen anything like it. How would she know? She was born and raised in California, like me. I wanted to grow up in California, and I tried telling my parents that. My mother just held me in her arms, trying to comfort me. All my reasons for staying fell on deaf ears. Their minds were made up, and there was no turning back.

Following the meeting, I stayed in the living room and glanced around. The carpet by the back door was faded from wear and tear it had endured over the years. The wall closest to the kitchen was littered with lines from our parents marking our growth on it. This was our house. How could we just leave our home? We had memories in this house, how could we leave them?

I went to bed that night with a lot of unanswered questions. I laid sleeplessly on my bed, listening to the sounds of the night right outside my bedroom window. I heard the crickets singing, and the neighborhood cat trying to figure out how he was going to get his midnight snack from the trashcans. I would miss those sounds.

I knew that by moving I would have to get use to different sights and sounds. I also knew I needed to meet new people and start my life over again. I knew I would have to learn a new life in order to start my new one. It would take me a while to get used to a new place, and new people. Something I wish I had known then that I know now is how great my new life would turn out for me, and all the new friends I had waiting for me.