This move in a few days will be my third big move in my lifetime. I’m not counting going off to college, but that’s a different kind of move all in itself. My first big move was from a small town in central Texas to a big suburb of a BIG Texas town. My second big move was five years ago when Aaron and I left the great state of Texas and moved to La Vergne, TN.
My first move was when I was in 6th grade. I was moving from the only place I had ever lived and my parents moved me with about a month and a half left of school. I still haven’t forgiven them for that! (just kidding mom & dad)
We lived in Brownwood, TX and at one point or another both sets of grandparents were within minutes from our houses. I had lots of friends, loved school, church and playing basketball. All was good in my life. I would be entering junior high the next year and BAM my parents throw a curve ball my way. They tell me we’re moving to HOUSTON. What the heck? I loved my life. I loved my friends. I loved my life.
Sixth grade is a hard time in a kids life. They are still very insecure, but yet more secure than ever. They are still figuring out who are real friends and starting to see that some are not so real. They are noticing the opposite sex and may even start “going out”.
We moved to Missouri City, TX and I had to try to find a place to fit in at a new middle school. I will never forget the first day I went to Quail Valley Middle School to get registered. This place was absolutely huge to a girl from small town Brownwood. I felt like I was being swallowed up by the walls. There were so many kids there and I just knew I would never find a friend.
My mom walked me in and we went to the office. I got my classes and there was a student helper there that was going to walk me to my class. Now I had a few things that were not in my favor here. One – I was entering school with a month and a half left. Yeah, not the good time to integrate a new student. Two – my first day of school was probably starting in about 3rd period with about 20 min left in the class. Can we say awkward?!
So, back to the first day. The student helper walked my mom and I down the longest halls I had ever seen and we ended up at the choir room. This is funny, b/c I’m not sure why I was in choir. I have no reason being in choir. I can’t sing. Looking back it’s probably the only space they had left since it was the end of the school year!
We stood at the door while this 8th grade student helper told me that this was my class. I looked at my mom and tried to be calm and collective, but couldn’t. I was about to cry. I did not want my mom to leave. I felt so alone and so out of my comfort zone. I was supposed to walk in there by myself in the middle of class at the end of the school year and make friends. Those few seconds seemed to last forever. I did not want my mom to leave. I wanted to go home and start over. Start over on a new day. Maybe a new year. Maybe a new school. Maybe the school I loved. Maybe I wanted to go back home. To my old home in Brownwood.
Fortunately for the student helper it didn’t get too awkward. I don’t remember crying. I don’t remember screaming for my mom to not leave me. I don’t remember much of anything too awkward, but I will forever remember the feeling in my stomach and in my heart of needing my mom. Needing her to comfort me and make me feel okay. She could see it in my eyes and she knew that I didn’t want her to leave. But she had to. I couldn’t go to school with my mom. I think that would have been worse for me!!
The end of that year was hard. The next two years were hard. I didn’t feel as though I fit in and had a hard time making friends.
Moving is hard. Moving in 6th grade is hard. Moving in 6th grade with a month and a half left of the school year is even harder.