Another New Horizon :: Personal Narrative Writing

Another New HorizonWhat did Mississippi have in common with New York, Hong Kong, Boston, Australia, Vancouver, Venezuela, Montreal, the Philippines, China, and Toronto? Nothing. Those were my exact thoughts as my parents tried to explain wherefore we had to move once again. With a missionary as a father, our family forever moved from country to country. When we had finally settled down in Canada, I had hoped that I would, for the first time, find some stability in my life. I listened to my parents and nodded while my heart broke for the thousandth time. Though I was but nine years old, I felt like I had already lived a lifetime of good-byes. As I stumbled up the stairs, I didnt even remember where we were moving to all I knew was that it was my world we were at one time moving from. I thought of all the friends I had already left over(p) behind, and I couldnt even bear to think of the friends I would directly have to leave.On the morning we left for Mississippi, my father picke d me and my brother up from our beds and gently laid us down on the back rotter of our small car. He never woke us up, knowing I would telephone call all the way to the airport. I thought about my best friend, Tim, as we waited to board the plane. I had promised him I would never forget him. But my sterling(prenominal) fear every time we moved was that I would forget. I was terror-struck of losing mymemoriesthe totally things I could keep with me no matter where I went. I feared that if I incisively looked away for a second, I would lose my nigh precious possessions. I wanted never to lose the memory of Tims face whenever he laughed at my jokes or the feeling of invincibility when I finally made my Australian schools soccer group or even the boring French songs we sang in our Canadian classes. I worried that once the bruises from my Kung-Fu classes had healed, perhaps all of Senseis teachings would just fade away. I feared most of all that I would forget who I wasthat once t he memories had passed, the very soul of my being would slip through my fingers. I thought that perhaps with every place I left, an irreplaceable post of me would also be left behind.The passengers began boarding the plane, and my brother and I fought only half-heartedly for the window seat.