My dad was helping me up into the big truck that all our belongings were in when I said, “Daddy, can we give the house a hug just one more time?” He nodded and took my hand as we walked up to our house. I placed my tiny hand on the outside of our beloved home and whispered thanks one more time. A few more minutes later my blonde hair was whipping around in the wind, knowing that the only thing that really mattered was to be happy and open-minded about wherever we were going next. When we arrived at this mysterious town called “Normandy Park” (I used to call it “Normady Park”!), and parked in the driveway of a place called “our new house”, I ran in and up the stairs. And I had no idea that 7 years later, that I would realize that home really is where my story began.