Moving is like moving on from something or someone. I boxed up the memories and walked through the ghostly empty rooms. Everything was gone and over and finished. As I walked through the front door for the last time, my heart ached for the things I have lost. Moving is like moving on because you have no other choice. It can be easy or hard, but it doesn't matter because you have to do it either way. I glanced back while driving away, knowing that I’ll never go back. I can drive by, just like how I can listen to the old songs or look through the old pictures, but I can’t go back.
Then I arrived in Provo, and felt home again. I'm so blessed to be here.