The Move

   When I was about 9 and a half years old, I moved all the way across the country to Texas.  I loved Texas and had been excited about moving from the minute I figured out we were.  We'd been to Texas so many times on vacation and I never wanted to leave.  My parents always told us that some day we'd move back to Texas and I held on to that truth until the day it happened.
   I don't remember much about the actual packing and moving part, but I kinda remember the trip there.  Amos (our basset hound) was riding with my dad in the moving truck and he would put his paws on the dashboard and look around like he ruled the world.  We also had two cats to move with us and boy oh boy did they hate that.  
   I think my most profound memory of that trip was when we stopped at a a certain hotel.  Animals weren't allowed in this hotel, but we refused to leave them in the car.  We walked right in with Amos and hid the cats in there cage under a blanket.  Everyone was staring and pointing at our dog saying, "Oh my gosh! Look at him! He's beautiful."  And I have to say he was probably the most in shape and gorgeous basset hound I have ever seen.
   We were all out by the time we got into the hotel room, Michigan to Texas was a very long drive.
   When we finally got there, to the house none of us had even seen it seemed almost too perfect.  The yard was kinda dead, but the house was very nice.  The neighbors were out all over and before I knew it I met my first friend in Leander, but that's another part of the story.
   Moving in really wasn't all that hard, but we never truly completely unpacked.  But this house felt like home and I was so glad to finally be in the state I'd been wanting to live in my whole life.
   It was in this state that I really grew up and met life-long friends.