Moving is my least favorite thing to do which I hated. Wait let me tell you why from the beginning of the story from where it all started.
I grew up in San Antonio I lived by the baseball stadium for like 6 years. Everything that I knew was there: my house, neighborhood, school, friends, crushes, life, and identity. We lived far from my mommy side of the family we only saw them like twice a year that’s all. My parents set up this thing that my grandparents would see us in the summer and my parents would either leave my brothers or my sister and me for the whole summer it happened like this for 3 or so years.
My last year in San Antonio my family hit a rough patch but, I don’t know this I thought everything seemed fine. My parents said it was my and my sister’s turn to go stay with my grandparents which I wasn’t really excited for.
When I was with my grandparents my parents were having trouble with some of my other family members from my daddy’s side. Little did I know that they wanted to come back to my birthplace El Paso, Texas. Don’t get me wrong I loved visiting my grandparents and my other family members but my heart always belonged in San Antonio.
When I was in El Paso we would go see family members that I never met and if I did I was super little to remember them. Little did I know that this summer I was never going back to San Antonio ever again I was stuck in El Paso. When I found this out I was mad at my parents, at my grandparents, and everyone that knew because they didn’t tell me. I didn’t want to live here I hated it I knew no one and I didn’t like that. All my friends were mad at me because I didn’t say goodbye and that’s the one thing I more mad about anything else I never said bye to my best friend.
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