Narrative

I was always very stubborn growing up. Resistant to every kind of change imaginable, from a new type of cereal for breakfast to a cancellation of my favorite cartoon show, I hated change. I never found it comforting to leave something old and start something new, for years I even followed the same path home from school to the exact number of steps. Old was comforting, old was safe.
One particular fall day after school I was walking home on my cherished route, minding to myself and my surroundings when as if struck by a mad scientist’s melancholy cannon, I was overcome with a grief that this walk home was different, something wasn’t right. Change was in the air.
“Oh good your home, how was school today sweetie?” My mom always greeted me home like she had been waiting for me all day by the door. I still could not shake the feeling from before, and my mother’s voice today seemed more reserved than usual. It’s not until much later in life would I realize that this inflection is used by everyone before they give bad news.
“It was fine, same as always.” I responded, day in and day out.
“Good. Good…well your father and I have something we would like to discuss with you in the family room.”
Walking to the family room I could remember my head filling with hundreds of reasons why both my parents wanted to talk to me.
“Did they find out I broke the pot?”, “Dad must have found my pet frog in my closet!” By the time I got in front of my Father I was ready to explode with anxiety.
“Jack, I have some bad news.” No! He found the frog and let it go, he must have. “Dad lost his job today, and we will be moving some time soon.”
Stunned, dumbfounded, speechless, I must have looked brain dead to my Father when he looked at me. My whole world had just collapsed. All my childhood stubbornness and resilience could not have prepared me for such a blow to my everyday life. I had never had to deal with something this significantly life changing since finding my favorite way to... [continues]

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