Moving Day

The big, brown moving van sat in the driveway. Boxes were neatly packed in the back of the van. Everything we owned was in the back of that van. The car was full and so was Dad’s truck. I was holding my favorite stuffed animal and my CD player.

Arnie, our German shepherd, was barking and racing around the yard. He knew something was different, but I don’t think he really understood it was time to say goodbye to our old house, our friends, and everything we knew. Dad’s job transferred him to Chicago, and now we all had to go along.

“Dad,” I had moaned one night at the dinner table. “Why do we have to move? All my friends live here.”

“I know, but you will make new friends. We will all have to make new friends.”

“Cheer up. I think moving will be fun,” Sarah, my older sister, said as she patted me on the head. “I can’t wait to see the huge, new high school and meet bazillions of new friends.”

I just hate when she pats me on the head. It makes me feel like a baby. I smiled weakly, and nodded my head. “All right, I’ll give it a try. But if I don’t like it, I am moving in with Dylan’s parents. You’ll see.”

Now the big day was here. There was a knot in my stomach. I wanted to cry. My best friend Dylan came over to say goodbye. His parents had bought a big box of chocolates.

“These are to make you feel better on the road,” whispered Dylan.