SUMMER OF 1992

Those three words hit me like a ton of bricks.

"We are moving."

I was thirteen years old and in junior high school.  That seventh grade year was a turning point for me.  I was a teenager.  Finally, a teenager.  Experiencing all the teenage things.  My mother let me wear makeup and allowed me to go to the movies or the mall with friends without adult supervision.  It was awesome.  I was happy.  My grades were good, I had a lot of friends and felt like life was moving forward.

Then everything came crashing down the minute my father uttered those words, "we are moving."

My grandparents made the move to Pennsylvania to be close to my grandmother's sister.  After visiting and helping them settle in my parents decided they liked the area and wanted to follow.  The house sold quickly, we packed our things and I had to make a lot of sad goodbyes.  I didn't want to go and I remember at one point feeling the urge to run away.  How could a teenager with no education run off and hide in the woods somewhere and make a life of her own?  Okay, that wouldn't work out well so I went along.  Squished in the back seat of the Oldsmobile with our dog Muggsie and a ton of luggage and boxes taking up most of the room I sat in the car and felt the worst feeling I had experienced thus far.  As we pulled out of the driveway and made our way down the road I didn't look back.  I didn't want that last glance of the house.  It was too sad.  It was my house for thirteen years.  This was the house my parents brought me home to from the hospital.  The house where I learned to walk, where I lost all of my teeth.  I spent hours in the back yard pretending and playing, running around with my dog.  This was my house.  Then suddenly it became someone else's house.  This wasn't fair.

The drive to Pennsylvania was long.  Farms stretched for miles along the country roads.  This was something I wasn't used to - and the smell - the smell of cow manure.  Gross.  Why did we have to move?  Why did it have to be this way?

We spent the first few months in an apartment as my parents searched for a house.  I started eighth grade in an unfamiliar school with unfamiliar people.  I could see them all staring and silently judging me.  This was the first time being the new girl and I didn't like it.  I did manage to make a few friends that I sat with at lunch.  When they found out I was from New York they seemed a little frightened as they asked if my dad was part of the mafia and if I had ever seen someone get shot.  Wow, really?  Are people in PA really that naive to think that New Yorkers are all murderers and gangsters?  When I finally found myself starting to fit in we bought a house that was in a different school district.  So, we moved again.  I was the new girl again.  I hated the feeling of being the new student. This is why I'm so adamant with my children about making sure they are kind and welcoming to any new student that enrolls in their school.

I'm sure a lot of people handle a move a lot better than I did. I kept thinking about what I was missing at my old school and with all of my Long Island friends.  I kept thinking about how unfair it was that I wasn't going to graduate from the same school my siblings did.  They were old enough to stay but I was the only one who had to go.  I had always envisioned staying at that house in Holbrook and not leaving until I was an adult and it was my choice.  Unfortunately things don't always turn out the way we plan.  I had to unwillingly adjust to this new life and although it may be easy for some it wasn't for me.  I hated it. But I stayed.  Even after turning 18 and being declared an adult with the ability to go wherever I wanted ... I stayed.  I settled down and made a life for me here in Pennsylvania because I didn't want to leave my parents with no one around.

As much as I would have loved to have never moved I have come to realize that there is a reason why things turn out the way they do.  I spent the last few years shifting my attitude to a different perspective.  For one, I look at my children and realize they wouldn't be here if it weren't for the move.  My husband would probably be miserable with someone not as awesome as me (note: sarcasm).  Also, Pennsylvania has some beautiful scenery.  It may be missing the beaches of Long Island but it does have lakes, mountains and plenty of vegetation.  My mind has told me that I do not belong here but God says yes I do.  Maybe He was saving me from something by sending me here instead of keeping me there.  For that I am thankful.

 “Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." -- Isaiah 43:18-19