Memoir Draft

It was probably cold with a hint of depressing outside. It was most likely raining or snowing out, which it is more than half of the year in Connecticut. We had just moved into my Grandpa’s old house. He had moved out and we had just sold our cute, yellow house with the green shudders on Wayne Drive. We loved that house and we had made it our home by painting it, putting in hard wood flooring, and even making the sun room into a finished bonus room with a pellet stove that we would sit around to keep warm during the harsh winter. Now my mom was pregnant with my brother, and this was her third child. This meant we would have 5 people in our family, and the cute, yellow house with the green shudders only had three bedrooms. There was simply not enough room. Moving into my Grandpa’s house was temporary and my parents were searching for a new house for our growing family: the search which had initiated the start of a rigorous journey for me, including many obstacles to overcome and a whole new life to adjust to.

I thought my parents were searching for a house in our little town of Plainville, so that I would not have to switch schools. At the time I had just turned thirteen and I figured my mom would understand that I could not possibly change my school and move away from all my friends and all the people I loved. Looking back, I was not prepared for what was to come next. My mom, my step-dad and I were sitting in the living room on one of those cold, rainy Connecticut days. My mom, beautiful, blonde, and quite round from being pregnant, looked me in the eyes and said, “Amanda, how would you feel about moving to Florida?”

This question really shocked me. “Florida?” I asked in disbelief. Both my mom and step-dad were looking at me, curious of my reaction. My first thought was definitely a rejection. I could not leave Connecticut. This was my home. I could not leave my dad, or my baby sisters, or my grandparents. I could not leave my best friend Lynleigh, or all my other friends at my school. This was just simply not possible. And besides, I definitely knew I would not be able to tell all of them I was leaving. Just seeing the saddened look in their eyes was something I could not possibly bare. Especially my father, I loved him so much: both him and my baby sisters that lived with him. I could not stand the thought of just seeing them a few times a year.

“Yeah right.” I told my mom and step-dad. They could not be serious about this impulsive thought. “We are serious about this, Amanda,” My mom replied. She then went on to list the pros of her idea to try to make me see past all of the cons that seemed to form the never ending list that was in my mind. She told me we would get a bigger house, an in-ground pool, and that I could pick out my own room. The way she described the new life she had in mind for our family made moving sound like a really good idea. My mother is so persuasive.

The hardest person to leave was my dad. My mom made it sound like I would see him more if I moved. She said I can spend all the major vacations with him so I would see him and his family (my sisters and step-mom) for a week at a time instead of just weekends, like how it was at the time. Little did I know how many other people I would have to see when I visited Connecticut. I had to visit my grandparents, my friends, my uncle, aunt and cousins. I really never ended up getting any full weeks with my dad. He is now in Heaven and I will never stop missing him.

We packed up our family and all of our belongings after my brother was born and moved into a bright pink Floridian house. We did, of course paint it to a chocolate brown. It was the end of December and we went from frigid weather in Connecticut and to the warm, humid Florida air. I picked the room with the wall of tall windows and the closet made of mirrors to call my own. It was New Years Eve a few nights after we settled in. The family across the street (the Jordans, who have moved but remain family friends) were throwing a party and some of the neighborhood teens were also outside. We were invited over and that is when I met Katherine (who had brown hair, brown eyes, and never seemed to run out of words to say) and her friends Erin and Darren, who also lived in the neighborhood. Katherine and I became good friends, which had made the transition to a new school a little bit easier.

Though having at least 2 friends so far (Darren was a year older and therefore he was in high school), switching to a new school when I was thirteen and in the middle of eighth grade was extremely difficult. Everyone at Jackson Heights Middle School seemed to know each other their whole lives and for the first time I was the outsider and a stranger to all. Everyone already had their groups of friends and did not really act like they wanted a new member. I have never been the shy girl, but it was as if I was in a whole new world and I simply did not know how to react to this. MSP (the Middle School of Plainville) was not even ten years old. Everything there was new and clean and all the teachers and students knew me and were all really nice to me. On the other hand, Jackson Heights was filthy. I could not believe the school had more than one building since the school I came from had one building that was really easy to get around in. The staircases at this new school were covered in dirt and filth and the whole lunch table I sat at had to get up and move because a cockroach just came out of the wall. My first day there, I got lost trying to find most of my classes and could not figure out how to read the bus schedule and find my bus and all the busses left. I was miserable and stranded and had to wait an hour for my aunt to pick me up and bring me home where I broke down and told my mom, “I absolutely hate it here. I want to move back with Dad.”

On top of that, the schoolwork at middle school in Plainville was so easy to me. There were no advanced classes so I got an easy A in everything. When I came here the administrators at Jackson saw that I had all A’s and decided to put me in all honors courses. I was surprised by how quickly these classes moved and how harsh the teachers could be. I got out of school at four (different, and way worse than the two-thirty release in Plainville) and stayed up till about ten every night trying to complete homework that I would start right when I got home from school.

“You need to take it day by day and if you still hate it after a year you can decide if you want to go back” is what my mother told me. At the time I already knew I was going to move back to Connecticut. I could never possibly love Oviedo or the people in it as much as I loved Plainville and the people who lived there. However, I did take it day by day. I got my grades up and became an exceptional student in every one of my classes. A year passed and another as well, and I was starting to adjust to this lifestyle. With harder courses than Plainville had to offer, I was able to get a much better education than I would have got if I still lived in that small town. I excelled in all my classes every year, made the cheerleading team every year, and finally became really close with some new friends. Junior year came along and when I started dating my boyfriend, Dustin, I realized I did not want to move back and that I actually enjoyed living here. Now, it is always nice every time I visit my family in Connecticut, but I know my home is here. I know that I really hated living here at first, but I am able to look back and say that I was strong enough to adjust and overcome the hardships. I was able to look past the bad in order to see the good in my life, and I was finally able to say that I am happy where I am.