Moving ExperienceWhen humans reflect on their lives, they often categorize things based on their position at the time of the event, grouping their college experience separately from their school experiences superior of their hometown. This association with place leads us to view unwanted movement as an attack on our personal way of life. I first experienced such an affront when I was in first grade, when my family and I moved to a small town about three hours away from San Angelo. My dad wanted to be closer to his aunt and uncle, so he apparently forced me to tag along for the experience. I didn't want to move away from my grandparents or my friends, just the thought of it would make me cry. I had to leave behind all my friends, my family that I had known all my life, and even my pets. The town was called Centerville and it meant nothing to me, not yet. Centerville was tiny. There was only one elementary school in the city and it housed all grades from kindergarten to seventh. Most people lived in the countryside around the city, and everything seemed so far away. There were so few buildings in the city that you could hardly tell where the city ended and the countryside began. Except, often, the presence of cows showed that the city limits had long since passed... this was the first time I had seen a cow outside of photos, up close and personal. Our new home was a three-bedroom trailer surrounded on three sides by forest. The trees around our new house grew thick and all kinds of animals lived in their shade. The house didn't have an actual driveway, just a dirt path from the street to the house. Our mailbox seemed miles away, positioned at the end of the road that connected us to the outside world. My sister and I would like... half of the paper...... little white mouse with red eyes for being fed to the snake that my father was looking for his friend. Most of my family loves animals. The first Christmas we spent there was terrible for me. I wanted to see my grandparents and uncle who still lived in San Angelo. I wanted to go home, to the house I had lived in for more than four years. I received a nice gift, but that couldn't make up for how miserable I felt. The most emotional gift of that day was my father telling all of us that we were going back to San Angelo. We hadn't lived there long, about three or four months, but it felt like an eternity without my friends and grandparents. I had never been away from them for long so it was a strange feeling for me. I was so happy after my parents told us we were going home. That was the only time I lived outside the city of San Angelo.