Narrative Essay
...’t know if he would return. “How often am I going to visit him? Could I move to Georgia?” I often asked my mom. We walked Marko and his mom out to their car, and waved goodbye as they pulled out. They backed out of the driveway slowly, beeping goodbye to drive away to their house across town. At the same moment, a gray station wagon pulled into the house across the street. Reading the word “Sold” on the moving sign next door proved to me that these must be our new neighbors. A tall man with brown hair stepped out of the car, and came walking in out direction. “You must be our new neighbor!” my mom exclaimed as he held his hand out for us to shake. We had a short conversation with the stranger from New York. My mom explained to our soon – to – be new neighbor how my best friend and his mom were just over to plan their moving away party. He understood how I felt because his kids had moved many times throughout their lives and lost many friends. “You have children?” I felt a jolt of excitement hit me as he slowly told us of his four kids, “… and I have one son going into seventh grade named Colin.” A boy going into seventh grade, this was my dream! My mom sensed my excitement, and told him my age. My expression lessened when I learned that they wouldn’t be moving in until the end of the summer. Nervous, scared, excited, anxious, fearful, many thoughts crossed through my mind. What if he didn’t like me? Would I eventually be able to call him my best friend, or would that be, in a sense, replacing Marko? A new best friend was something that I did not want. As one car pulled out, a new pulled in -- how strangely fate works. As one friend was leaving, another was entering my life. I quickly learned how “truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget” (anonymous). Had this ‘new friend’ idea not been there for me to remain hopeful for the future, I would not have been as resilient when Marko left. I soon understood how the best could come out of a bad situation. Skill requires practice, just as strength requires experience. In order to get through a difficult situation, I had to realize that another door awaited me and to go through it with an open mind. At the age of 12, that day he moved was one of the worst days of my life. Tears streaming down my face, I walked up to his room where he was gazing out the window. No furniture, no rug, merely a wooden floor with a friend who I would have never thought I would lose standing on the other side of the room, crying. I paused at the door, and walked slowly over to him, tears trickling down my face. I hu...