Moving+On-+Memoir

Moving On

“Again? Why?” I whined relentlessly, day after day, begging my parents to tell me why.

“Because we have to.” That was their typical response. Did they not know how frustrating it was to hear that over and over?

It had been only four years since we settled in Burbank from Japan, but already we were packing up our bags and moving to a new city. I was not ready to move again. I refused to leave my friends. I cried and yelled. I locked myself in my room for countless hours. But what chance did an ignorant first grader have against adults who had power far superior then herself? I eventually gave up arguing. It was no use. They had made up their minds. Reluctantly, I packed up my belongings and waited until the moving day.

My eyes consumed everything I saw, including insignificant things. Parks, banks, stores--nothing special, but hey, it’s a new city. I wanted to see everything. When I entered our apartment building for the first time, I didn’t know what to expect. It was a typical two-bedroom building with two restrooms. There was also a balcony, which surprised me. I remember once when a skunk came to our balcony…but that’s another story. I bounded into every room, peering to see if there was anything “special." The “moving people," as I had called them, were coming inside, carrying our bountiful luggage. I moved out of their way and watched the people delicately place the boxes on the ground, then watched them march out of the house for another round of luggage. I followed them out of the house and came back carrying a box of Legos.

After a few days of unpacking, we finally got to relax. Well, sort of. I worried constantly if I would make any friends at all. I was lonely. If we hadn’t moved, I would still be with my friends. As a first grader, having friends is almost as important as your life. That goes for all ages.

At last, the dreaded day came. I nervously walked to school with my father and my sister. Prado View Elementary School. Unlike other schools, this one wasn’t named after a famous person. The three of us wandered around until we found the office, and I got that uncomfortable feeling as I always do when I enter a new place--especially in a new school. My dad and my sister talked to the administrators as I just ogled at the strange room I was in. It wasn’t as quiet as I thought it would be. In fact, it was the opposite. Many telephones were ringing, and the administrators were calling to each other from one end of the room to the other. I found this funny considering that they should be setting an example to us. I turned to my dad, and he was nodding. One of the office ladies came up to me and told me to follow her. I glanced at my dad, and he smiled reassuringly. I slowly went after the lady.

The office lady guided me through many hallways and past many rooms to Track D’s 1st grade class, and she was fast. I had to jog to keep up with her. We finally stopped at one of the rooms. Even with the door closed, I heard the voices of my classmates. The lady encouraged me to go in. I shook my head vigorously. She smiled, but by the twitch she gave with her eye, I could tell she was annoyed. She opened the door, and lightly shoved me inside.

The moment I stepped inside, all the chatter died down. I tried to seem confident, but failed miserably. I wasn’t like other kids who were high in energy. I was one of the shy and quiet kids. I vividly remember the way they simultaneously turned their heads toward me as if in slow motion. I’ve always hated being stared at; I still do. I broke off the eye contact I had with my classmates and gazed at the ground. The silence was unbearable. I was scared. I wanted to disappear. I didn’t notice the teacher coming up to me.

“Hi, what’s your name?” She had an amicable voice. I looked up to her sapphire eyes and trusted her immediately.

“Lisa,” I had replied. I could still feel everyone’s eyes on me.

“That’s a nice name, Lisa. My name is Ms. McDaniel. Welcome to our class. Will you follow me?” I nodded and followed her to one of the tables toward the back of the room.

On the way, I heard a girl say, “Hi, Lulu.” I was surprised that someone would actually talk to me, even if they did get my name wrong. Later, I found out that her name was Roxana. She had her black hair tied in a braided ponytail and looked at me with wide eyes. She grinned at me, and I shyly smiled back. I instantly felt relaxed. I sat down at one of the tables where three seats were already occupied. Ms. McDaniel told me to take out a book from the basket that was on the table and start reading. I nodded once and chose a book. When the teacher walked away, I went back to gazing at my classmates. Some had already gone back to reading, but the others were still looking at me. I can’t blame them; everyone is interested in new things or people.

I lived in Corona for about four years, and yet again, my parents decided to move back to Burbank. I didn’t make a big deal out of it. Don’t get me wrong; I hated leaving my friends and teachers. I hated moving again, but unlike when I was younger, I knew that my parents were thinking about my sister and I when they made this decision. I guess I did mature a bit. But I am not planning to move for another 5 years.