The 5th Move

Its amazing to think, that my earliest memory, was of the 5th time we moved. I used to think it was the first time, but my mother convinced me that it wasn't. I was young, about 7 or 8, and it was just about the time school got out. I wasn't unhappy about it, but my older brother was.

He had yelled at mom and dad because he didn't want to move away from his friends. They told him that they were sorry, but that his unruly behavior wasn't going to change anything. I listened to all of this as I snuck a cookie from the kitchen. It was an interesting and intense battle, but eventually my brother just stormed of to his room in defeat.