1.Home, sweet home
It was December 22. The bitter wind swept the countless snowflakes across my front yard. My dad was there sweeping the 1. His nose was red as a cherry. With every breath he took, a white puff 2 into the air.
Inside, my mother was 3 the last of the boxes. As I entered the front door, the 4 that after today I wouldn’t enter through that door ever again 5 a hole in my stomach. I picked up my dog and sat Indian style with him in my lap on the 6, wooden floor. I had no 7 but to sit on the floor, for there was no longer any furniture occupying my house. I sat there in a daze (恍惚), just 8. There was no reason for my parents to make me, a once 9 12-year-old kid, 10. I had two best friends right across the street; I did well in school and I always kept my room clean. 11, this was “my house”. By no means did I want a couple of 12 living here. These recurring (重复) thoughts 13 around in my mind and I couldn’t find an answer.
Out of the front window I could see the orange top of a truck pulling in he cleaned driveway and I knew it was the other U-Haul. Instantly there men came 14 in the back door like World War Ⅲ was starting.
