Weeping Willow

Moving is a hard thing for most people and even though it takes a couple of months, you end up feeling somewhat attached to your house, and start calling it a home. In my lifetime, I have moved 6 times, so you would think I would have gotten used to the whole thing of letting go of your home. I thought so too, until we moved from my last house, 33 Willow Place. Out of the 6 times that I had moved, I had lived a Willow Place the longest.

            

I thought Willow Place was perfect place to live.  It had everything from nice big square rooms, to windows everywhere I turned and even a tree house in my back yard that I would scramble off of, onto the maple tree standing next to it. I guess it was an easy way out to say I climbed to the top of a tree. On top of it all, I lived in the best neighborhood you could imagine. There were trees that bloomed big, pink flowers while I ran to the ice cream parlor to get my vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. It was like being in a movie. Suddenly, my mom had this crazy idea that we had to “downsize” since my brother had moved out. Okay… I admit, a four-story house was a little big for three people, but I couldn’t tell my mom that, or it would be certain that we would start house hunting immediately. In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered what I thought about moving, my mom had made up her mind. We were moving to a duplex apartment, on Green Place. Green Place didn’t sound as friendly as Willow Place, it sounded more… business like, to me. I acted like a teenager and said that I couldn’t care less, but that was definitely not the case.

My mom never found out how I felt, until recently, so I dealt with my situation on my own. Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t care about moving out of Willow Place forever, so I began writing up a plan to conquer my fear of leaving my beloved home. As soon as I moved into my new apartment, I would pretend I was back at my old house, by doing things I used to do in my old house, like climbing trees in my back yard, or crawling into a corner with a flashlight to read Archie Comics, and slowly, but surely, my apartment started feeling like a home.

            

60 Green Place, will never, ever compare to 33 Willow Place, but with a little bit of imagination, it can come close, and imagination helped me get passed how upset I was over moving.