Experience in Moving
When humans reflect on their lives they often categorize things by their location at the time of the event, grouping their college experience separately from their hometown high school experiences. This association with place causes us to view an unwanted movement as an attack on our personal way of living. I first experienced such an affront when I was in the first grade, my family and I moved to a small town about three hours away from San Angelo. My father wanted to be closer to his aunt and uncle so he seemingly forced me and to tag along for the experience. I didn’t want to move away from my grandparents or my friends, the thought alone would cause me to cry. I had to leave behind all my friends, my family I had known all my life, and even my pets. The towns was named Centerville, and it meant nothing to me, not yet.
Centerville was tiny. There was only one elementary school in town and it housed all grades from kindergarten on to seventh. Most of the people in town lived in the country around the town, and everything seemed so far away. There were so few buildings in town that you could hardly tell where the town ended and the country began. Except, often, the presence of cows would prove that the city limits had long since past… this was the first time I’d seen a cow outside of pictures, up close and personal.
Our new house was a three bedroom trailer surrounded on three sides by the forest. The trees around our new house grew densely and all kinds of animals lived in their shade. The house didn’t have a real driveway just a dirt path from the road to the house. Our mailbox seemed miles away, positioned at the end of the road that connected us to the outside world. My sister and I would usually ride our bikes to check the mail, it was good practice since I had just learned to ride a bike.
Our closest neighbor was about half a mile away. There was an overgrown dirt path through the forest from our house to that of our neighbor. We had more than one neighbor but they lived so far away that they may has well not existed. We went for a long walk one day and saw an old house that was covered in vines and other strange plants, proving that we did indeed have neighbors, even if they were only the animals who inhabited the deserted house.
There were many things about the house that I absolutely hated. First, the roses painted on the ceiling that my sister and I shared. At night, in the dark the flowers glowed looking like tiny eyes always watching us. We wanted to paint over the flowers, get rid of them, but we didn’t live there all that long so we never got the chance. The last thing about the house that we hated was that behind the house there was an old radio tower. My siblings and I thought that the radio building was haunted by a ghost, or some sort of evil witch. Once we walked up the hill that was home to the tower, as we neared the top the metal door on the building swung open. We were so scared,...