It was time to move again to another place in yet another town. I remember going to my classroom to let my teacher know that I was no longer going to be in her class anymore. That my family was moving away. I remember her quieting down the class, preparing them for the announcement. She spoke very clear and told the class I was moving away and wouldn't be here anymore. I wasn't really sure what to expect, but I was never prepared for the reaction I got. I don't know why, but for some reason the class Cheered! They were excited about the news of me leaving, even the teacher. I was hurt so bad as I looked around the room at their reactions. I wanted to cry because I felt like no one liked me, I didn't matter for everyone to be so happy I was leaving. Cheering to the news that someone is leaving isn't the response someone gives is it? However the one friend I did have, my quiet and mysterious buddy, he was the only one that did not share the same emotional response. He was actually quite sad, even without words, his eyes said it all. Later that week the day had come for me to leave, my last day here in this class. The one person that I could be myself around and looked forward to see, was no where to be found that day. Whether he was sick or hurt I didn't know. But it hurt not being able to say goodbye to him when I needed him the most. 

Leaving Las Vegas in the old brown station wagon I remember we ended up in a small town but can't remember the state. I see mountains so big and were within walking distance of the town and homes in it. In a small town with everything you needed within reach, no reason to travel far unless you wanted to. Remembering this place it was so beautiful, the white fluffy snow that covered the mountains as far as the eye could see. This place was so majestic and eye capturing, even a postcard couldn't show the beauty this place holds.

Even though I was too young, my brothers got to go enjoy the mountains sledding on them with all it's cold and white covered cloak of snow. I however enjoyed waking up to a fresh blanket of snow, completely untouched and sun glistening from it. Dressed in thick winter clothes and standing in the middle of it. Trusting the earth that is beneath you, breathing in the cold crisp air and just falling back into it. Hearing the crunching sounds to your ears as your body fell into the snow, but feeling the comforting and secure softness like hitting a feathered pillow. Fluttering your arms and legs away from your body and back again to create your own snow angel.  This place we would ride bikes down to the creek behind a fence and always get covered in muddy water. But it was so fun though, to go and play with them, even if we got into trouble for the dirty clothes. My brother closest in age ripped his pants playing in the creek, in yet I smile at these thoughts. Isn't this the kind of play that kids should be doing? The kind of pictures that comes to mind when you think of your childhood memories.

Going to the school there I know it was very brief for some reason, maybe only a  couple of weeks. When we first moved to town my father told us to not talk about our life, that to keep our business at home. I don't know what about our life was so secret though, but he made it seem important to keep quiet. Across from where we lived shortly after I met a lady, and the one thing I remember the most about her was her hair. I know she was Native American and her hair was so dark and black as can be. Like seeing a flawless and wild black stallion. Capturing an image of it standing in a field as the sunlight falls upon their hair to where it shines so beautifully, breath taking. When she would let it out from her braid that held it up tightly, it was like beauty in slow motion as it would unravel all the way down to the floor. So beautifully soft, and the smell was like breathing in the aroma of flowers. I liked to call her my godmother. I would go to her home and spend as much time with her as I could. I would brush her long locks of hair, trying to learn to braid it. I didn't know how to braid, and no one ever played with my hair. It was a nice feeling having this bonding time with a female to feel like a girl, be a girl.

Not long after I started to spend time with her, I felt it so easy to talk to her. I felt so comfortable around her. Could this be because I desperately wanted a mother, or that she was just willing to listen to me? Not long after meeting her though, I was clearly reminded that I talk too much. I remember going to class one day and my older brother came to get me from my class for some reason. I wasn't sure what was wrong, but I was told we had to leave. Walking along side him to the office I remember I was being checked out from school. Later that day at home I learned from my father we were moving again. I was told "you talk too much! You were told not to talk about our business!" My friend, my godmother as I called her, she listened to me completely. Whatever I said to her, it must have been very bad. Because it was enough for her to tell the school, and then the school called my dad. What have I done? What did I say? Doesn't matter now it 's too late, time to move again.

~DayLily