I burst out through the door of my Tennessee home, tears streaming down my face. My bare feet moved quickly through the cool grass as I sprinted away from the news I had just received. Soon, I reached the edge of the woods that had served as my childhood play place. Collapsing under the shade of my favorite tree, I buried my face in my knees and sobbed.

We were moving. Never again would I enjoy the warm southern air or feel the tickle of dewy grass on my toes. No more climbing the big, sturdy trees that formed a natural jungle gym for me to play on. No more splashing through the bubbling stream in my backyard to cool off on a hot summer afternoon. No more, no more, no more. In just a few weeks, I would be living in Colorado. Colorado! I didn’t even know what Colorado was like! I sighed and leaned against the tree’s firm trunk.

Taking it all in, I listened to the chirping of the birds and smelled the fresh June air. I watched my neighbor’s horses galloping freely through the green field, their manes blowing in the wind. Everything was so peaceful, so homey. In that moment, I didn’t think I would ever be able to leave my beautiful home. A little bird fluttered in front of me and landed on the ground. It chirped joyfully and hopped around in a circle. A slight smile flickered across my tear-stained face as I watched the carefree little creature enjoy the shade. He liked it here too. The only difference was that he didn’t have to leave. Suddenly angry, I shooed the bird away and folded my arms. He flew away in a blur of yellow feathers.

I shook my head, annoyed by my own bitterness. That innocent, happy little bird hadn’t done anything to me, yet I had been jealous of his freedom. Pathetic. I knew this was the time to suck it up and accept that I couldn’t change my circumstances, but it was really hard! Sometimes you just need to be mad for a little while. So that was just what I did. I stood up and brushed the dirt off the back of my jean shorts before walking back a little further into the woods.

Once I was out of earshot from the house, I screamed as loud as I could, pouring all of my anger and frustration into the earsplitting sound. Frightened squirrels, rabbits, and birds fled from the noise. I didn’t care; it made me feel better. The effort of it soon exhausted me and I collapsed into a heap on the ground, breathing hard. I now felt composed enough to go back to the house and confront my mother. Holding my chin up, I marched home with a sense of stubbornness and defiance. I shoved the door open and walked into the kitchen, where my mom was making some I’m-sorry-we’re-moving-and-maybe-these-will-make-you-feel-better chocolate chip cookies. “Cookie?” she said brightly, holding one out to me.

The warm, gooey deliciousness was very tempting, but I shook my head and spoke firmly. “Mom, we need to talk. I don’t want to move. At all. Ever. I love it here!”

She sighed, “I’m sorry, Chloe, but it really isn’t your decision. You’re thirteen years old! Your dad got a job offer in Colorado that he couldn’t refuse. I know it’s hard; I don’t want to leave either! It’s going to happen, though, so we better just make the best of it. Think about all the fun stuff we can do in Colorado! C’mon, Chlo, we can learn how to ski! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah, it’ll be a real party. Who cares that I’ll have no friends and will have left behind everything I’ve ever known? No biggie, as long as we can ski!” I retorted, my words dripping with sarcasm.

Shaking her head, my mom said quietly, “I don’t know what else to tell you, Chlo. But I can tell you this: once you accept that it is going to happen, you can have a good attitude and just enjoy the opportunity. Until that happens, you should probably stay in your room and think about it.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I walked slowly down the hall. I locked the door of my cozy little bedroom and curled up under my polka-dotted comforter. Soon, I fell asleep with a troubled mind and a broken heart.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Three weeks later, my room was completely bare apart from the huge cardboard boxes stacked up everywhere. They were filled with the only parts of my old life that I got to bring with me to Colorado. My mom called for me to help put all the boxes in the moving truck, so I picked up one labeled "Chloe’s Miscellaneous Junk" and carried it outside. I repeated this process for all the other boxes, moving robotically and trying not to think about what I was doing. Too soon, the truck was loaded up. It was time to go.

I walked slowly through the empty rooms, getting one last look at the place where I grew up. Even the house looked depressed, almost like it wanted us to stay. Memories swirled through my mind as I passed through each part of it. Bouncing on the bed in my parents’ room when I was five years old. Helping my mom make brownies in the kitchen. Having family movie night in the living room. There were so many memories here, but I knew I had to leave. I stepped out through the front door, closing it gently. Turning slowly, I blew a kiss toward the house and walked to the car, forbidding myself to look back. We drove away, everyone sitting in stony silence and listening to the monotonous hum of the engine. Goodbye, Tennessee. I’ll miss you.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was our fifth day in Colorado, and I was sitting in the rocking chair on our porch. Huge, snow-capped mountains surrounded me on all sides, but my yard was warm and sunny. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of nature. If I really focused, I could almost pretend I was at home. Suddenly, I heard a chirping noise that sounded very familiar. My blue eyes snapped open with curiosity. It was a little yellow bird who had landed on the porch’s railing. He hopped in a circle and chirped a high-pitched song. That was exactly what the bird in Tennessee had done after I found out we were moving. A smile crossed my lips as I came upon one of the most enlightening truths I had ever learned: It doesn’t matter where you are, because happiness can be found all over the world. The bird of home taught me that all you have to do is be willing to look for it.