When I first realized that my parents were looking into buying a new house, I thought it was a cruel joke. Even when they started actually taking us out to houses, looking into prices, I just thought It’s just an empty threat, but it wasn’t. There were the few houses that were cool but none of them felt like home. One house had just gotten new floors so they asked that you didn’t walk around in shoes. I thought that the house was snobby. Then one house had an old playset, infested with wasps. I left that house with 5 five stings decorating my back in painful patterns. I remember one day, we were about to sit down for dinner and Mami said she had good news. They had made a bid on a house. What? She said we were gonna be moving soon. I remember storming out of the room, up the worn stairs, hitting each one as hard as possible. My vision blurred with emotion as I saw the yard through the windows. I landed hard on my bed, imagining a life without my blue walls. Why would they do this? How can they steal me away from these rooms filled with so many memories? I was being dramatic, but these were real emotions. 

We shared the front yard with three other homes, but none of them had kids. It was me and my brother’s domain. The yard had a GIANT flood drain area, mainly because all the houses were on the top of a big hill. When it rained hard enough, the drain would fill halfway up the walls of stone. Then, when you jumped in, your toes would hit the squishy, slimy mud at the bottom of the murky brown water. It was our own swimming pool on good days, and on bad days it meant that there would be twice the amount of mosquitos out in the yard. 

If I couldn't be outside, my bedroom was my favorite spot. If you moved up the worn, gray, carpet stairs, with the coral walls you would see four doors each leading to the guest bedroom, bathroom, bedroom, and master. The bedroom was our shared room, sometimes I had the top bunk, sometimes I had the bottom. Sleeping was never fun for me. My brother Rafael was always the first to sleep and would leave me alone with the neighbor's dog who barked into the night and the squeaky ceiling fan. Sometimes I would softly call to Rafael and ask him if he was still awake. Sometimes he would respond with a joke and sometimes he would respond with a snore, leaving me feeling more alone than ever. Of course in the mornings, you would have to maneuver around the piles of Legos if you wanted to avoid starting your day off on a bad note. No one knows the pain of Legos on bare feet more than I do.

As I grew, the mysterious guest room became more and more intriguing. Interestingly, it was always closed around the holidays and though it had a scary dark red color, the window’s view of the yard had a magical influence on the space. When I decided to move in around third grade, I never thought the room could transform so much. The first thing I knew needed to change was the color of the walls. My favorite color was blue, so I was determined to find the right shade. Not too dark, not too light, and definitely not neon. After some time I found the perfect shade with the perfect name, Poolside Blue. We spent the weekend painting and painting over the dark walls, watching as it transformed. We were going all out, so Ikea was necessary. I had decided on an all-white selection of furniture, except for my red wheely chair. I even bought pop up butterfly stickers to fly around the room. I would sometimes imagine that I was in a treehouse because all the windows were level with tree branches. Soon the room started to draw in family members like moths to light. I remember, Rafael would always jump on my already made bed. 

Funnily enough, it turns out that we moved into the snobby house. I couldn’t be bought into happiness (unlike a certain someone who was content with a new Lego set) and so, there were many tears. The walls were empty, with no fond memories except for the ones I was desperately trying to grasp from the old house. The new house didn't exactly have a yard but Mami and Papi promised to paint my room the exact blue. Instead of a yard, we had a neighborhood dog park. It’s funny how you don’t realize how much you want or need something until you can’t have it. After a month or so, we were more or less settled. There were kids our age next door, and we didn’t have to deal with any insane mosquitos. The old house wasn’t just a beautiful home. It was my childhood. Looking back, I realize that my parents knew what they were doing. As a family, we’re better for it, and as a kid, I learned to embrace change. But sometimes, just sometimes, I wake up in my blue room and look out the window half expecting to see tree branches over a yard of my own.