By Rian Dawson
Grosse Pointe South HS
As a general rule, I’m always ready for the worst case scenario.
My computer crashed. I’ve got everything backed up on an external hard drive.
The airline lost my luggage. I’ve got two days worth of clothing in my carry on.
But the one thing I don’t think I’ll ever be able to prepare for is if my parents decide to move, whether it be while I’m still living at home or otherwise.
I’ve lived in Grosse Pointe all my life and I’ve lived in the same house, on the same street, on the same block. Moving away has never crossed my mind.
And when I meet people who have moved five, six—even seven times, I can’t imagine how they’ve adjusted or how they maintain relatively healthy social lives.
If I were to move away from the home I’ve grown up in, the city I’ve had so many first in—first drive, first bike ride, first day of school—I don’t know what I’d do—I don’t know if I would ever recover from severing such ties.
But somehow, somewhere, there are people who are able to do it. They leave everything behind. They start fresh somewhere else.
My respect for such people runs deep. I only wish I knew what their secrets are—to make new friends, to adjust seamlessly, to slip into a new community.
At some point, I’ll have to find out—I can’t live at home forever—I won’t live at home forever.
