Not So Bad, New House | Teen Ink

Not So Bad, New House

October 18, 2018
By szewnic22, Pewaukee, Wisconsin
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szewnic22, Pewaukee, Wisconsin
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Author's note:

I am 14 years old and am a freshman at Pewaukee Highschool. I have almost lived in my new house for one year.  I've made lots of memories and am learning to love my new house!

Authors Note: Moving houses is never easy. Anyone who has moved once or one hundred times will tell you that moving houses can be painful, emotional, and one of those hard moments that eventually will occur at some time in everyone's life. Although I make it sound dreadful, moving is actually worth it all in the end.

Home. Four letters that mean a lot more than just a place to live. One word that can represent your safe place. One word that you feel pessestition over. One word can take an impact on your life. One word that is attached to endless memories. Now imagine your one word, four letters, and endless memories being taken away.

Anxiously, my older brother Ryan and I sit on the basement couch. A million questions filled my head. I can’t help but wonder why my mom called me and Ryan into the basement for a “family meeting”. After fully addressing the situation my stomach flips; every bad thing I’ve ever done swarms my subconqueses thoughts. Slowly, as my mom descends down the stairwell, my stomach begins tying itself in knots. All I can think is she knows. (I’m not exactly sure what, but I’m convinced I’m in trouble.) “Hey you guys,” my mom says sweetly, “I have something important to tell you.”

“Okay what’s up,” I say in the most unsuspicious tone. A smile reaches across her face stretching ear to ear as she says, “We’re moving!”  A relief is lifted off my shoulders. However, as I let the thought sink in and fully process, I realize what she just said. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. My face drops and I try to collect myself, but I can feel my eyes start to fill with water. I use every ounce of strength I have within me not to cry. My mom searches our eyes for a reaction, but I don’t think it’s the one she’s looking for. Like air filling up a balloon, my thoughts start filling up my head. Eventually, like the balloon with too much air, I pop. Without a second of hesitation I spit out “No.”  No! I don’t want to move. No! I wasn’t even involved in this decision. No! I don’t want anything to change.

2 weeks go by and the birds no longer sing, colors seem duller, and the world seems out of line. I feel like I’m one giant puzzle, about to lose a puzzle piece. However,  I’m not talking about some corner or side piece that you can barely notice is missing. This puzzle piece is the one in the middle; the piece has a huge impact on the overall picture. This piece is connecting my childhood, memories of when my parents were still together, and monumental moments that happened in my life. Once it is gone, I feel like my puzzle will never be whole again.

When my mom asks if I want to see the house I unconfidently say sure and sign myself up to tag along. I maintain a detached silence. While my eyes gaze out the window, I press myself against the passenger door. We begin to slowly creep up the driveway. The new house is strong, sturdy, and stacked tall with red brick.  It stares at me and forces it presence, demanding that it will not be ignored.  In my mind, I conjure up every negative aspect of the house that I can think of; making myself certain nothing will make me like this new house. I hold my breath as I take my first step through the door. My eyes scan every inch of the house. Including everything reaching up to the tall ceiling, and skimming the shiny wooden floor.  My eyes come to a sudden halt, as I notice a quote draped right above the door reading “ a house doesn’t make a home, the people inside do.” Like a beacon of hope, I reread the saying until it finally hits me.

Standing in the empty skeleton of my soon to be house, I start to look at the bare bones with a positive mindset.  I use what the quote says to my reflect on my life. Eventually, I realize I will fill the house with memories, personality, and characteristics that will change this new house into a new home.

Eagerly, I ask to see my room. I glide across the floor, and THUMP THUMP THUMP all the way up the stairs into my room. My eyes grow big in awe of how much bigger the space is compared to my own room. Deep inside me an excitement fizzles. Sunlight bursts through the windows coating the room with light. Light gray carpet relaxes into the floor inviting me to look around the room. As I try to take in all of the excitement, my eyes get caught on a mirror standing tall and proud on the wall. In the reflection of the mirror I see a changed matured girl. My fizzing excitement overflows to point where I can no longer contain it; causing a smile to reach across my face stretching ear to ear as I think about my not so bad new house.

Moving is like leaving a piece of you behind– I guarantee that no one can argue that differently. However, in the same sense the saying, ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ taught me that you need risk for a reward.  Moving is a risk that can be scary. But, in the end your house doesn’t make a home, it’s the people inside of it that do.

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