Moving Day

My Mom called, “Dinner time.” I was the first one at the table. “My favorite, but what’s the occasion, Mom?” My Mom sighed and opened her mouth, but then my dad walked in and waved his arms across his neck and shook his head. My mom stopped talking and set the table. I was the first to finish and licked my plate clean. I got ready to go play, yelling to my sister, Keara, if she wanted to come too. She came running to the front door. We went outside and played. I heard a rumbling sound coming from our gravel road and wondered who it could have been. Was it the mailman? No, it was a moving truck. We had a neighbour far past us, but I didn't think it was going there because it turned right, and was coming onto our driveway. I told Keara and I ran inside. As I yelled for Mom, I saw her with a bunch of boxes. I was wondering what was going on? We’re moving!? No! I didn't want to move. This was the only house I ever knew. My mom commanded me to help her put the boxes in the moving van and I did it with no happiness. I didn't want to move. If we were going to go to a new house, what if it was smaller, what if it was in the city? In no time at all we were in a new house, and it was in the city. I ran to a room and cried. I loved the old house. The next day I had my own room and a week later we were all settled. I realized it’s not that bad. I was happy because home is where your heart and family are!