I was around four when my family and I moved out of my grandparents’ house and into our own. I was young when we left so moving really wasn’t that big of a deal for me. We also really didn’t have much so moving was almost a fresh start for us. When we arrived to our new house I was amazed at its size, living with my grandparents was great but not very big. We all had our own rooms now, a big backyard and to my surprise I met my best friend that day.
As we unpacked our things a woman and her son came to our door holding a plate of casserole. Me hiding behind my mom and him hiding behind his, we didn’t really say hi at first kind of just looked at each other. Soon enough, without even realizing he would just come over, help me unpack and hang out. We would hang out for countless hours just running around thinking of things to do as we went. Going on a new adventure each day.
As a kid I remember thinking I wouldn’t really care for the move, and would rather stay with my grandparents but as I look back on the move now I can only see it as fate that I would happen to move into the house across the street from my best friend. Even to this day he has grown to be more of a brother than friend and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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