Moving Out: A Short Story

In the story ¨ Your Move” by Eve Bunting James is the main character and has a little brother Isaac.James wants to be in the ¨ K-bones club¨, but it’s a risky thing because he is responsible for his six year old brother.His mom is at work and his dad is gone, so he is the only one that can watch Isaac. James starts off trying to be cool with the K-bones, but then starts to understand he did something wrong and is nicer to Isaac, towards the end.

I was on phone with my dad, he was drunk and made promises I knew he would never uphold. Beep, beep, beep, the phone call ended. Tears rolled down my face, my breathing became shallow, it grew harder to fill my lungs. I was having an anxiety attack. “What’s going on?” Stewart asked, leaning toward me. I shook my head, avoiding the topic. “David,” my mom responded simply. Stewart’s typically stern persona softened immediately. He sighed, clasping his hands together, all his body weight shifted onto his elbows that were placed on his

As I looked up, the sky was dark the sidewalk illuminated by the streetlights. The sound of crickets and cars echoing through my ears. I walked home that night, tears in my eyes. I was leaving, I couldn’t handle it anymore. The meds, doctors, psychiatrists nothing was working, our lives were in constant danger. By the time I got home the car was gone. By the time, I finished packing it was dawn. The sun creeping in through the shutters. For the next couple of days, I crashed at Jason’s before I headed South. I heard my cell ringing, it was mom… I let it go to voicemail.

Twenty-one years old my middle brother began to drink constantly on a regular basis. Problems back home had influenced him in drinking, but also the people he correlated himself with back then. He took quite some time to overcome his addiction, but during his intoxicated moments he resembled that of Victor’s family. One night during my brother’s intoxication my brother had come down to our house to get away. When my brother rang the doorbell, I quickly rushed towards the door, opening it to find my brother’s eyes bloodshot red. Walking in face forwards he slowly took what felt like one hundred paces to our red couch, which already contained a few broken springs on the left cushion. Once reaching the target he plopped down like a heavy book

Dwelling about my own feelings led the direction of frustration and anger as I grew older, feeling for anybody’s feelings or situations, almost non-existent; don’t miss-understand, I had marvelous times and a caring person to an extent. Growing slowly into a person whose true character lived in a cage, confined to prison and when released, it was madness, not intending to only injure, I wanted to see blood, tasting this flavor in my mouth before a confrontation. Choosing who I wanted to associate with and if others left me alone there was no problem, although, at the end of the sixth grade the nestling soul fell asleep. There was a boy in school that began tormenting me every day walking home; undesirable name calling. Eventually deciding to

As soon as he said those words it became apparent to everyone in the room including myself that this was a very serious and safe environment for something of this importan as soon as he said those words it became apparent to everyone in the room including myself that this was a very serious and safe environment for something of this importance can't be spoken about freely which in itself made me feel as if The process of an addiction treatment group became more real. TV again explaining his story and I immediately began to see myself in a lot of the actions that his high school self was taking, I am mediately could see myself in him. He told us about where "It all started to go wrong." And immediately the room felt like they got heavier. Even though no one was speaking or murmuring before it felt like there was a different tone of silence while he was explaining the more serious effects of his addiction. It made me really scared as well as sorry for him due to how easy it was to stray from the path that seemed so similar to my own.

But Santa added a little twist when it came his turn. The table not only moved, but switched ends in mid air. “Good,” Sly said, “Very good.” “Now please return to you seats at the table. Standing Sly looked at each one then sit down on their stools. “Gentlemen,” he said. “You have been taught this way to move things for only one reason." "And that is to help deliver presents on Christmas Eve.” It cannot be used to entertain others or to better position yourself."

The aspect that related to me the most this week was the chapter on relocation. My relocation was actually pretty self-centered in that I wanted to be close to my family after having a child. I remember growing up in Kankakee and coming back for a year after undergraduate studies and having big dreams for the city of Kankakee, but none of these dreams were involved with my decision to move back. When Perkins opens up with the chapter of relocation there is a statement that stood out to me in regard to this matter. “Of the three R’s that anchor the guiding philosophy of the Christian community development movement, relocation is clearly the most distinctive and troublesome.” (Perkins, 75) Relocation to the Kankakee area was easy, because

He stops moving against her and holds his head up, “Jada, make no mistake this is all mine (He inserts his fingers in her vagina) and…I can keep you in a room and fuck you for days.”

I picked up my heavy bag, intending to throw it over my shoulders but someone grabbed it from me before I could. I twirled around, intending to kick the thief before he could break through but he stopped me with ease.

When my dad and stepmom began talking about moving, I didn’t think much of it. They had moved a lot, so I admit I wasn’t really worried about it. Where they were living then, was my favorite out of all the places they had lived because it was right down the road from my mom’s house. It was easy for my sister, Kelcey, and I to go visit our dad, stepmom, and little sister, Kyra. We could literally just walk, before I had a car, over there almost whenever we wanted. But, that changed when they started talking about moving again.

Moving away from the place that one calls home is a hard situation, especially for a child at a young age. I lived in Brookhaven, Mississippi, and I was in the eighth grade. I had been in Brookhaven School District majority of my childhood. I had plenty of friends, and I was involved in school clubs. It was two weeks before the beginning of my freshman year when I got the news. My mom called me in her room and explained why I had to transfer schools. My sister has Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, and she felt that it was best that we try a smaller school. I called up my friends to tell them the news, and we decided that these last few nights were going to be the best. We went out to bowl, had sleep overs, and had a special trip to the waterpark. I felt so happy to get that time with them, but moving day came and ruined all of the fun. That morning we packed up the house, said our goodbyes to our neighbors, and drove away. Though as I rode in the car towards a new beginning, I felt like I left behind the whole world behind me.

The morning dew still on the car. The goal was to head straight to Chicago, no time to stop for rest, as we all had jobs to get back to when this is all over with. Within a day, we arrived at at my uncle Ralph’s house, which is Alex’s father. He was understandably a wreck, along with my aunt. My uncle has had an alcohol abuse problem for as long as I can remember, something that unfortunately was passed on to Alex. I realize my uncle, although he may not share it, feels partially responsible for Alex’s death for that reason. Alex died because of his compulsion for alcohol, I used to hear stories of him hiding empty pints of Bacardi all over his home. Often, people tend to self medicate without realizing it, however, I’ll never truly understand if something deeper was going

Over the past eight years of my life I’ve moved three different times, and each time was a stressful and exciting adventure. When it comes to moving, I think about the heavy large brown boxes full of clothing, the large three-ton orange and white U-Haul truck and the sore achy muscles that comes along the day after the move. Some people like to hire people to help them move, but every time I’ve moved it was only me, my mother, my younger brother, and some of my brother’s friends if we were lucky. Moving can also be a learning experience that can lead you down the path of stress, anger, fear, and accomplishment. In life, you face different obstacles every single day.

When humans reflect on their lives they often categorize things by their location at the time of the event, grouping their college experience separately from their hometown high school experiences. This association with place causes us to view an unwanted movement as an attack on our personal way of living. I first experienced such an affront when I was in the first grade, my family and I moved to a small town about three hours away from San Angelo. My father wanted to be closer to his aunt and uncle so he seemingly forced me and to tag along for the experience. I didn’t want to move away from my grandparents or my friends, the thought alone would cause me to cry. I had to leave behind all my friends, my family I