Migration
I woke up to the unexpected sound of my refrigerator opening. Groggily, I glanced at my alarm clock and realized it was already 10 AM — late by my standards, even for a weekend. As I walked into the living room, my mind buzzed with potential plans for the day. Would I go to the pool with my friends? Binge-watch my favorite shows? Maybe spend time at a friend’s house?
Before I could decide, my mom called me over, and my dad said, “We have something important to tell you.” My heart began to race with excitement. Was it a surprise vacation? An Apple Watch? Had they finally agreed to get a dog? My thoughts spiraled with anticipation. Then, with just one sentence, my parents shattered my world: “We’re moving.”
I stood there, speechless. We were leaving the place I had called home for years, moving to a city I had never been to — 45 minutes away. Everything would be different. It was a complete restart. My friendships, some dating back to kindergarten, would be disrupted. Even our cherished Friday morning routine — biking to school and stopping at Digby’s Doughnuts, where the pastries were bigger, cheaper, and far better than anything from Krispy Kreme — would come to an end. The weight of those memories made the news even harder to bear.
The first thing I did was call my best friend. He was devastated. In that moment, we made a pact: we would make the most of our final months together. More hangouts, more sleepovers, and even new adventures — like organizing a popsicle sale at a bustling local event. We had a blast, met new people, and even made $60 in profit, which, for two 11-year-olds, felt like a fortune.
Breaking the news to my classmates was just as tough. As someone known as the class clown and a loyal friend, I felt the collective disappointment. My friends, in an effort to make my last days memorable, went out of their way to be kind to me. They made me team captain in every game and treated me to ice cream from the school’s Friday truck, refusing to let me pay them back. Their kindness made leaving even harder.
As the move approached, an unexpected delay from PG&E postponed our transition by a month and a half. Despite the delay, we packed every day until our apartment looked nearly as empty as when we first moved in. Finally, moving day arrived. My dad’s friends came to help, and we rented a U-Haul truck. The process was exhausting, but after loading everything up, I took one last, lingering look at our old apartment before we hit the road.
The journey to our new home was an experience in itself. The U-Haul, with its roaring engine, felt like a modded V8 car but moved at a snail’s pace. When we finally arrived, I was awestruck — our new house was even more stunning in person. We unloaded our belongings into the garage and took a well-earned break in the cool indoors.
Then, an unexpected challenge arose. A massive Costco truck pulled up with our new fridge — a high-end model my mom and I had carefully chosen. The problem? It was too big to fit through the door. The only solution was to remove the door entirely. As the workers prepared to unscrew it, I had a mischievous idea. I texted my mom, “We didn’t like the way our door looked, so we took it off and are buying a new one.” Moments later, my dad’s phone rang. My mom was in full panic mode, questioning our decision. When my dad explained the real reason, we all had a good laugh about it.
After the fridge was finally installed, we celebrated with a meal at a nearby Indian restaurant. The warm ambiance, delicious seafood, and sizzling fish appetizers made for a perfect first meal in our new city. By evening, my mom and sister arrived, eager to explore our new home. My mom’s excitement over the fridge reassured me that at least some things were turning out well.
Sleeping on blankets in an empty house felt surreal, but the next morning, I took a walk around our new community. I saw a park under construction and met new neighbors my grandparents enjoyed talking to. Many houses in the area were still being built, making everything feel fresh and new.
The first few days were tough. Without Wi-Fi, I experienced a boredom I hadn’t felt in years. But once we got connected, I indulged in a full Harry Potter marathon before reality hit — I had to start at a new school. Like any newcomer, I was nervous. But as I met classmates from my neighborhood, I started to feel more at ease.
However, not all friendships were the right ones. Over time, I realized that some of my first friends at the new school weren’t people I wanted to be around. Their idea of fun included vandalizing school property, and I knew I had to distance myself. It was a painful lesson, but one I’ll never forget: people aren’t always who they seem.
Then everything changed. A new student joined our class, and to my surprise, we had a lot in common — same heritage, same hobbies, even the same favorite video games. We instantly clicked and soon became best friends. Though he didn’t live in my community, he was just a five-minute walk away, and we hung out almost every day.
If you’ve ever had to move, I hope my story reassures you that it’s not always a bad thing. Change can feel overwhelming, but it also brings new opportunities. The more negatively you approach it, the harder it will be on yourself. But if you stay open-minded, you’ll realize how much you have to be grateful for. Not everyone is as fortunate — housing costs are skyrocketing, and for many, buying a home is just a dream.
Looking back, moving wasn’t the end of my world. It was the beginning of a new chapter — one filled with lessons, new friendships, and experiences that shaped me in ways I never expected.


















