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She looked around at the boxes and crates; all her worldly possessions, all boxed up. It was a familiar sight. She didn’t even know how many times she’d moved in her life any more. She had lost count somewhere.

It had been worst when she was little. Her family had moved so many times that she’d never really made friends. Sometimes, she’d barely had enough time to learn the names of half her classmates before they were packing up again.

She had always longed for somewhere that she could really call home. Every year, as she blew out the candles on another birthday cake, she had wished for a home and for friends who would still be there to sing Happy Birthday the following year.

She sighed as she walked through the house. It had been closed up for a long time, and there was a musty feeling in the air. She opened all the windows to let the fresh air in, and went outside to look at the garden.

That was another thing she’d never had as a child. Her parents had always chosen places with concrete back yards instead of long grassy lawns. They had never had so much as a flowerpot. Plants were too much trouble to move.

She smiled. It was time for things to change. She kicked off her shoes and stepped barefoot onto the grass, wiggling her toes and feeling the earth beneath.

It was time for a change, she thought. Time to grow some roots.

© Kari Fay

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