The window over the back field was my favorite part of my grandfather’s house. I could see the entire neighborhood, but more importantly, the field. I longed to see the animals crossing the field and I knew all the prime times my favorite animals would be there. The fox and her family had quickly become my favorite and I relished the time I spent with them.
The night I overheard my father talking about selling the house, I began to scheme. I began to plan. There was no way I could survive a move from this house. No way I could move from the animals, especially the family of foxes. They were my friends and the only ones I understood. I knew the teachers called me a loner and I knew each teacher already had that preconceived notion on the first day of class.
I was never understood until the day I turned ten and walked into Mrs. Miranda’s class. From the moment I entered her classroom, I finally felt I was truly seen for the first time. The first time I walked in, she sized me up and seemed to immediately know what I needed. She gave me the encouragement, guidance and support I desperately needed.
Now my father was trying to take me away from the only person who cared. Cared about the animals and cared about me. I knew if we left, I would never recover. No way could I allow him to be successful.