Throughout my 15 years of life, I only knew one place to call my home. My parents came over to America from Vietnam and they were lucky enough to even buy a house. Because of this, I did not grow up in a fancy house. This house had many complications. There would be a leakage every time it rained, uneven flooring, paint chips, and many crickets. Even with all of this, I still loved that version of my house.

As I grew older, my dad was blessed with his work and our family had the ability to remodel our house. It was definitely a long process because my dad could not remodel everything at once. So, we remodeled our house part by part for about over a year. There have been countless mornings where I wake up to loud banging and drilling due to the construction. I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything else either. I was able to see the process of my house evolve. It was almost as if I grew up along side with my house.

Recently, my parents had the capability of buying another house not that far from where we already lived at that time. Originally my parents bought this house for my aunt and uncle that were suppose to come over from Vietnam, but due to the whole pause on the immigration process caused by the corona virus, they can’t come to America. Then my parents decided that we should move. It was a much bigger house and my dad already remodeled this house as well, so it would make sense to pick the nicer house.

The idea of change scared me. This news really came abruptly and out of no where. My brother and I were not the biggest fans of this idea at first. I felt like I was leaving my childhood behind and nothing would be the same again.I would rather choose my beaten down house over a practically brand new one. It was an environment that I grew to be very comfortable with. But, then I realized that it was the memories that were created in that house that made me love it so much. It was time for change and sometimes I shouldn’t always be too comfortable with where I am at.