Ryan Tsou

A SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD’s WISDOM

I remember the day I was told that we were planning on moving. It had something to do with my dad’s job taking us to Boston. I didn’t have an idea that it would become Lexington, but instead I thought “Massachusetts” and “New England.” This prospect had been thrown around earlier, so we had already traveled to Boston before. I enjoyed whenever Boston was mentioned because I would think of the “-ahs” of the New England tongue. Moving didn’t seem important then; I mean there were still months ahead of me before we were actually packing our bags and going. The idea of moving was about as important as what was last night’s dinner. I ate it up fast and that was that.

                  At the time, life was good, and when I look back, I see myself with friends that were the greatest buddies ever. They had looked upon my moving as a sad situation but still far ahead as well. We would still hang out whenever we could, and things were the same. Dynamic changes did not occur until school was over. The coming of summer vacation meant the coming of the move and soon movers came to our house. They packed large boxes and seemed like big towering beasts to me. I saved some clothes and some stuff I wanted to bring to my friend’s house because I was not about to go to Boston with my parents yet. Searching for a house and living in a hotel for a few months wasn’t my idea of a good time, and I had some last minute catching up to do with all my friends.

                  So that’s how it was for most of the summer. I was homeless but would be picked up by some friends for a couple of weeks. Then another friend would hang out with me before “I was gone” so I would go to their house and stay there for a while. Fun is the total understatement of these great days. Movies, games, and just chatting for long hours: we did everything. When I look back upon them, these memories are those that I hold closest to my heart. All the while I did my nomadic thing, my parents had traveled to Boston and lived in the hotel searching daily for the right town and the right house. Days went by like this and I was running out of time, as I had to go to Boston. School was starting for my friends soon, and good lucks but no good byes were said as I was sent to the airport.

                  After my parents met me at the airport in Boston, we returned to the hotel as still, after months of searching, a house was not found. The hotel actually was very nice. It was at a Residence Inn, one of those hotels where long stays are fine since the rooms are stocked with a refrigerator and stove. The hotel was comfy, though after the first week I became sick of it. School wouldn’t start for weeks and already I longed to go back to

my friends.

                  Soon we found a house, and Lexington would be my new home. We walked into the colonial styled house, choked at its price and finally decided to take it since after all it was Lexington, and my parents had heard good things.

                  The house was older than me, smelled funny, and had ugly wallpaper. My parents had decided on a renovation project that unfortunately included much of the house. Loud noises and banging, not to mention dust flying everywhere, created a genuine construction site, and I was left to handle the wallpaper. Scraping off the walls and later painting dominated my lackluster life. When we retreated back to the hotel after a day’s work, I would immediately logon to the Internet, my savior. Instantly, I was connected with my friends again six hundred miles away.

                  The house took forever to become what it is today, but once it was livable, we moved out of the hotel and got situated in our new, renovated, old colonial. It was nice to have my own room again and all of our stuff was moved in, out from three-month storage. When our house finally began to take a nice shape, school was coming up. I had gone to the new-kid orientation program; it made me feel better, but truthfully, being the new kid is strange and uncomfortable. I entered the auditorium on the first day of school lonely, feeling that the whole world was far away. I didn’t see any familiar faces and quickly wanted the day to end. Because the first day was the freshmen orientation half-day, it did end quickly though it didn’t seem that way at the time. I went home in silence and remembered when my parents asked, “How was school?” The answer was “Bad.”

                  School didn’t appeal to me for some time. I mean no one enjoys tests and homework, plus it doesn’t help when you don’t know anyone at school. After school, I fell back to my online sanctuary. Six hundred miles were nothing with instant messaging, yet it was not the same. Just the knowing that my friends weren’t nearby or that I couldn’t just call them over hit me hard. I regretted not hanging out with my friends more often and not thanking them for being great friends. I felt bad for not connecting more, and I was afraid friendships would fade. School was tedious and painful, not helping my situation.

                  In time I began to make new friends, and things began to brighten. This positive aspect of moving was great as I realized that by meeting more and more people my list of great buddies would grow. Now when I think about it, if I hadn’t moved I wouldn’t know my friends here, and to me that would be the greatest loss. I learned the importance of friendship from both my old and new friends. I also began to see how much value true friendship holds. Moving brought me times of pain, but it also benefited me as I gained new friends and insights of friendship. From now on, I remember to value my friends and thank them for everything they do for me. Thank your friends, and show them you care. Maybe you’ll get something out of my experience; I hope you do. I hope you take my advice, but whatever, you know—it’s just a sixteen-year-old’s wisdom.