My life has been an interesting one thus far.

I was born into a quiet neighborhood that

always kept to themselves. Our only communication was with our aunt who only lived about five

minutes away, which was also my father's childhood home. I lived almost in solitude with my

immediate family, waiting for my parents to come home every day after work just to be in a

semi-different environment.

By the time I was 9, I was told by my parents that we had to move away. Not to any

specific place, just somewhere out of the house. Of course, I was upset about this, but there was

nothing my nine-year-old-self could protest without consequence. We lived about 10 minutes

from old house but somehow even closer to my aunt's. In this new house, I finally was able to

have my own room. I was ecstatic to be away from my brother and be able to put anything that I

want on the walls without criticism, but somehow, this made my situation worse. I felt more

alone than ever. At the young age of 10, I fell into a depression. I was mad at the fact that my

parents forced me into this new place I wasn't used to, forcing me to sleep every night alone

without the knowledge that someone else was there to watch over me in any situation. Almost

every moment that my parents would cross into my sight, the wallpaper of the room in my mind

would change from a dull, dark blue to a fiery, hot red, it would make one think they were in an

inferno.

Just after my 11th birthday, we were told, once again, that we had to move homes. And

again, I was agitated. But alas, nothing could be done to prevent this move from happening. We

spent the next 5 years in a house that was in our old neighborhood, so nothing was too different,

other the actual house we were in. As time went on, as I continued to age year after year, I

started to realize that my parents weren't telling me something. That there was a legitimate

reason that we were moving so often, and not just to tick me off. I decided it was time to ask.
 It was late one evening, I was approaching my father as he was eating his favorite late-

night snack; Honey Nut Cheerios. I sat with him and proceeded to ask, "Why were we moving so

much when I was younger? What was wrong with our houses?" He gently placed down his

spoon and replied, " We've been kicked out. Overtime, we couldn't afford living in the same

place. The house we're in right now is owned by your mother's friend and she's allowing us to

stay here. Of course, we'll have to move soon because her son wants to move here to San

Antonio and live in this house."

After he explained that to me, I began to see our family experiences in a different light.

The wallpapers went to a peaceful blue. I learned that change is an extremely necessary trait to

master when transitioning into adulthood. Since realizing that, I've learned not to worry or stress

or become angry because there is always a beneficial reason behind our constant changing. My

family and my constantly changing environment has shaped me to not fear the occurring

changes. They taught me to always have faith in the environment around me, for it will care for

me. We moved twice since then, and each time, the wallpaper was an olive green.