I'm moving again, away from a lovely apartment, neighborhood and a community of friends I adore. And I'm ready to do it, to see what comes next, to start a new chapter in Kosovo. I've grown to love change, to lend it a helping hand if it's not happening fast enough, but this was not always the case. I hyperventilated the night my parents told me we might move to Tennessee. In front of a plate of bribery Chinese food, inedible at the words that my father was checking out a new church. I won't move to Texas, I shouted before nearly passing out. Driving across the country in an aerostar, landing in a new junior high halfway through my 6th grade year, this little 12-year-old drama queen had many more breakdowns.
How could I move to land-locked Tennessee? I'd lived in Oregon since I was two years old, where my favorite summer memories were at the coast, waking (being woken) at dawn to splash barefoot across the ocean inlet, searching for the perfect sand dollar. Lying in the dunes at night to watch for shooting stars, running down to scuff along the dark water line to "spark" in the phosphorescent-rich sand. How could Tennessee compare?
But I remember one summer night at our house out in the country, joining my mother on our front stoop, watching neighbors stroll by, saying hello and commenting on the heat of the day. We sat in silence as one by one the fireflies created a sea of lights in our overgrown grass.
I'm looking forward to see how my world expands, and what I grow to love in my new home.
(Photo from Desktop Nexus)
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