Moving a thousand miles away from swampy south Florida to a small town in Pennsylvania was an incredible experience. Moving did not come as a surprise. My father had been requesting a transfer for many years. There were many reasons for this, but the biggest reason was that none of our family lives in Florida. My father’s family lives in Baltimore, because that’s where he is originally from. When it became official, we had to act fast. We only had a couple of months to pack all our belongings up, find a house, and rent a moving truck. On my last day of fourth grade at Spanish Academy, all my friends signed a card, and a couple even brought me gifts. It was hard, but I knew that starting a new chapter in my life would be very exciting.
    

I had never been to a small town before; I was used to lots of diversity and people. The only cities I knew were Miami and Baltimore when we went to visit. My ears popped as the elevation climbed, being far above sea level was also very new. I remember what it felt like driving through the winding roads and seeing all the mountains and forests. It was fall time, and it was the most beautiful place I had ever seen. In Florida, there is only one season. It is summer all year long, and while that sounds like a lot of fun, experiencing a new season was really incredible.
   

Starting school in Pennsylvania was one of the most bewildering things as well. Where I lived, in Miami, and the tiny charter school I attended, was mostly made up of Hispanic people and other people of color. Now in an all-white school, and living in an all white neighborhood was, to be frank, very bland. I learned a lot about how small town people are, and some things were fascinating. For example, I never knew people actually hunted. The only people who owned guns in big cities were cops or gang members.
   

When winter came around, my entire class was counting down until the first snow. It happened during reading class. We were going over a test when the soft white snowflakes grazed the ground for the first time that year. An excited Leah yelped, “It’s snowing outside!” Ms. Mino lined us all up and took us outside. It was odd to me. I was asked what I thought of snow, but it just looked like everyone had dandruff. That year I built my first snowman and had my first snowball fight.
   

Pennsylvania reminded me of every cheesy “girl next door” chick flick. You knew who all your neighbors were, and they all lived in actual houses instead of apartments. The old woman next door brought us lasagna the first day we moved in. Another neighbor of ours greeted us the second we unlocked the door. My neighborhood was cute and quaint and you never felt unsafe.
   

The only person I missed dearly was my crazy Puerto Rican nanny, Ms. Annette. She was the closest thing to a mother I ever had. Although she barely spoke English and spanked me when I messed up my hair, she took care of me and my brother every day for almost ten years. She remains to be the most impactful person from my childhood, other than my father,  The last day with her was very sad, but we all knew it was not a goodbye. In fact, about three years later I went back to Florida all by myself and stayed with her for two weeks, but that is a story for another time.