Analysis Of Narrative: Moving Through My Eyes

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Paper #1 Narrative – Final: Moving Through My Eyes
At the age of 10 my world changed drastically as I moved 1,566 miles from Maddison Heights, Michigan to McIntosh, New Mexico, but what did I know about change? Why couldn’t I be as excited as my mom? Why couldn’t my dad move with us, then get a local job? Why couldn’t I just fall asleep like my sisters? Why does this move continue to impact my life nine years later? Why am I the only one who has a problem with these trivial questions?
I remember the early May morning where I laid on a feather-top mattress, where on both sides my sisters, Faith and Emily slept next to me. The silhouette of the brightly colored walls were but mere shadows, barely visible in comparison to my SpongeBob alarm
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Getting out our disposable cameras all three of us got pictures of the arch. I remember seeing other cool landmarks of the United States like the largest tire in Michigan, the largest Travel America truck stop, and of course the Saint Louis Arch. I admit, seeing the country was really cool, but under the circumstances of moving cross country were less than ideal.
The second day came to a close, and the three-day road trip was almost over, but not without stopping at a KOA campground. KOA is a campground for the traveling people, whether hippies, road trippers, or people like my family who are moving cross country.
Sleeping in the popup was normal, but it wasn’t the same. I felt absolutely nothing. I love traveling, but hated moving, but I wasn’t about to say anything. Not as a 10-year old, and not now.
We got closer hour by hour, minute by minute and mile by mile and my mom’s excitement grew more and more with the occasional resound,
“I’m so excited!”
I would have been better off listing to When the Sun Goes Down by Kenny Chesney because my mom and sisters listened to it in the car quite often, while I usually sat
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After that long hour later we arrived to our new “home” out in the middle of nowhere McIntosh, New Mexico off of Ice Plant road. My mom was in tears of joy and the rain outside shared my gloom, even Faith and Emily were happy to be in New Mexico.
“Is this the house?” Mom asks.
I don’t remember why I lied to my mom, but I may lied because if I could lie to her, I could lie to myself.
“Yeah, this is the house. Dad showed me a picture.”
My life in New Mexico had few happy moments and to this day I still have a hard time understanding why God would allow me to have so much anxiety, anger, depression and hurt because of this move and not heal me fully.
My family suffered as we fell into a chasm of distance in the first few years to come. For the first year my dad was a truck driver and my mom stayed at home, but rather than being homeschooled, my sisters and I were in public school. By the second and third year my mom worked full-time as a town clerk, my dad was a prison guard working nights and my family started to own many farm animals. We weren’t a family, but just people passing by.
In this milestone of my life I’ve seen God at work even though I’ve been bitter, but God is still God even in sadness and

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