I believe everything happens for a reason. The sun shines on one side of the world, so that the other may have night.
When I was in the third grade, I moved 2,415 miles away from the only home I had ever known. My parents have always had a rocky relationship, but soon it became too much for either to deal with. So they split up for good. My dad soon got remarried to a woman from another state. I, as well as my brother, knew even at our young ages that this was not a good sign.
There came a day, short into my dad’s new marriage, when he drifted home with a cheerless aura about him. He was a worker at Kellogg Brown & Root, and his company heads had played dirty in the Enron crisis. As a result, he had been laid off. Thinking that this was the worst of the news, I wasn’t afraid. I knew he would find a way to make things right. We didn’t need money. We had each other and our family. But then he told me that we were moving away, to the state where my stepmother had lived all of her life. Needless to say, I was not accepting of this reality. Moving to a different state would mean that I would have to leave my grandparents, my uncle and his family, my friends…my mom.
For a long time after I had left my home, I felt upset and feared that everyone I loved would forget me. When I arrived in Washington, my new home, I was still in the same slump. I did not have any friends; I did not have any real family. I felt so alone.
But one day, a particularly bad day, a girl began to talk to me at school. I was unwilling to communicate, but we soon became friends. Her name was Janeth. As time went on, I began making more and more friends, and grew closer with my step-family. I would talk to my mother everyday and tell her about my new friends (I would only allow myself two, for fear of losing them) and how all of my teachers were so great. Everything was fine until I got another message from my dad. We were moving…again.
Since then, my small family and I have moved every two years. I got used to the feeling of being alone. I never bothered to make any more friends, because I would just lose them all the next time I moved.
I was prone to staying indoors, locked in my room. My parents would always kick me out, telling me to “Go get some friends”. I only wished it was that easy. One fall day, I was out at the park (since I wasn’t allowed to be at home) and I saw a few people from my school. I saw the way they were having fun and laughing and enjoying their time together, while I sat alone on a cold metal bench. I realized then that I could not live a life of solitude. So I took a risk. I started to make friends again.
I am glad to say that today I have the best friends I could have ever asked for. We understand each others troubles and regard each other as family. When I look back on my life, I realize that if I had never moved, never been lonely, and never opened myself up to the possibility of being hurt, I would not be where I am, or who I am today.