The hot, sticky, humid Texas air was clinging to me, making it hard to breathe. But did I care? No. I was too engrossed in singing along to my favorite song that was playing on the radio. I was belting out the lyrics loud and proud when I was suddenly interrupted by my father who said to “turn that blessed radio down, and please come downstairs.” Of course I was disappointed that I couldn’t finish singing “Bleeding Love” by Leona Lewis, but nevertheless, I turned down my radio and came downstairs. I was greeted by my mother and my sister, who were talking in hushed voices. As I threw myself down onto the sofa, my mother started telling me about how she was born and raised in Minnesota, and how her whole family lives there. Of course, I was very bored, but I acted like I cared because she’s my mama and I owe her some respect. While I was in my own little world, pretending to listen, I heard a phrase that snapped me back into reality. “We’re moving to Minnesota.” At first, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me, but no. It was real. My mouth was hanging open, and my eyes were wide. I sat there for a minute, not moving a muscle. Of course I received the usual “Shut that mouth of yours, or you’ll catch flies,” from my sister, but I did not shut this mouth of mine. Instead I ran upstairs and slammed my door, still trying to process the fact that we were moving 1,179 miles away from where I had spent my childhood.

After a couple of days of sulking and being moody, I finally learned to accept the fact that my family was moving to Minnesota. The movers had started to show up and pack all of our things into boxes, making the next couple of days chaotic. It was strange seeing everything in boxes. It was like seeing something you value and treasure, only you couldn't have it. It was also odd having strangers in your house putting all of your possessions into those boxes. But I kept myself busy by putting things into those cardboard cubes and avoiding getting in the way of everybody. It just seemed so strange that we were going to leave here in a few days, and we were probably never going to come back.

I remember the last two days of the moving process very clearly. The night before the move, I was sitting on my bed, staring out through the window onto the street, where I had run round with the other children of the neighborhood, going crazy and not having a care in the world. The only thing that mattered then was who was winning the foot race, or if the cattle that roamed around would come close enough for us to pet them. I was just sitting there, going through all of these memories, when the dam inside my eyes burst. Tear after tear fell, and they kept falling while I started to sob. It was not a pretty sob either; it was full of hiccups and hyperventilating. I tried my hardest to stop; crying was the sign of a coward, and you would then be called a baby by the older children, a name you could never live down. You also had to show the young’ns that you were brave, because they looked up to you. Time passed, and I had soon cried myself to sleep. I didn’t know it then, but the next day would be a long and tiresome one.

The next morning was filled with men cussing under their breath, and my mama having mental breakdown. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it was the moving day. Everyone was trying to finish packing and loading things onto the trucks. As stressful as it was, the heat and humidity sure didn’t help. My mother was frantically checking every nook and cranny of the house to make sure we hadn’t forgotten anything. I was sitting on the front porch, trying my hardest not to get sucked into the madness that was happening. My best friend Rachel showed up to say goodbye, and we walked around the plantation, where my family and some others lived. The plantation wasn’t a working plantation, but it still had lots of open land and animals, and a few people still grew some of their own crops. It was a friendly neighborhood, and the few people that lived on that plantation with us were proud southern folk who took the term ”southern hospitality” to a whole new level. Rachel and I walked across the bridge over the river that ran through most of the plantation, we stopped by the stables to see all of the horses, said howdy to Old Farmer Bailey, who let us feed his prized collection of ducks, and lastly we stopped by to see the cattle. Bessie, one of the cows, let us pet her! It was a nice going away present, as the cows always hated us children. As we finished our lap of the plantation, it was time to say goodbye to Rachel. “I’m sure gonna miss you, Laura Grace.”

“I’ll miss you too Rachel. Life’s gonna be a whole lot different without you in it.”

That was probably the hardest part of moving, but we promised to stay in touch, and we still do today. Once we finished our goodbyes, it was time for me to hop in the car and begin the journey to the land called Minnesota.

Let me tell you this, being stuck in a car for three days with your whole family and two cats is no fun. I was highly irritable within the first five minutes of the car ride. What saved me from lashing out at my family was thinking about what Minnesota would be like. I was born and raised in the south, so I was accustomed to the ways of the south, which did not include: over two inches of snow, experiencing all four seasons, and these Minnesota accents, which at the time completely baffled me, because I had only ever heard and spoken with a southern one. I was excited to get out of the stinkin’ heat, that was for darn sure, and I was also excited for all the snow! And during those three days in the car, I was slowly preparing myself for these changes. I was to no longer be addressed as Miss Laura Grace, but simply as Laura. I would slowly lose my southern accent, and it would be replaced with a Minnesotan one. I filled my ten-year-old brain with thoughts and images of what this place Minnesota would be like.

The instant we reached our new house, I knew life was going to be a heck of a lot different from Texas. Our backyard was nowhere near as big as the one in Texas, there was no body of water running by our house, and we didn't have a porch that wrapped itself around the house. Most importantly, there was no cattle roaming around, and where the sam hill were the children? I looked sullenly around, realizing that life wasn’t always going to be easy. Nobody gets through life unscathed, and we have to learn to deal with it. No matter where you go, trouble will always come along, and you have to put on your brave face and get through it. I knew that moving would be one of those hard times for me, and there were many more to come.