What is family?
I once thought it was simple- the warmth of home, Mom's laughter in the kitchen, Dad's voice calling me for dinner.
But everything changed in a single day.
The world I knew shattered, and I slipped into a silence I couldn't climb out of. The rest of my middle school years drifted by in my grandparents house- quiet days filled with memories that hurt to remember, and the kind of loneliness that time doesn't easily erase.
When my father's company was passed down to me, I felt no desire to manage it. The weight of it all felt distant- like a life that no longer belonged to me. My uncle stepped in to take charge, assuring me he would hand it over when I was ready. But deep down, I wasn't sure I ever would be.
He told me to focus on school instead, and recommended Burbank Heights. When I earned a place there, he brought me to live with him- closer to the school, and perhaps, closer to a new beginning.
At first, moving in with my uncle and aunt's house felt strange- as if everything around me was moving too fast while I still feeling the silence. His house was quiet, but not in the same comforting way my grandparents had been.
Still, my uncle tried to make things easy for me- asking about school supplies, helping me settle in, reminding me to take things one step at a time. I appreciated it, even if I didn't always know how to show it.
During the first few nights, I would lie awake listening to the faint sound of cars passing by, wondering if I really belonged there- or anywhere at all.
But as days passed, that uneasy feeling began to ease. There was something about Burbank Heights- the energy of the students, the rhythm of the mornings, the quiet hope that filled the air - that made me feel, for the first time in years, like I might catch up.
It wasn't home. Not yet. But it was something close- a place where the silence didn't feel quite so heavy, and where maybe, just maybe, I could start finding myself again.