A House is Not a Home

My first here of high School felt awkward. After leaving junior high at the head of my class with all the seniority the upper levels could afford me, it felt strange starting over as a freshman. The school was twice as big as my old school, and to make matters worse, my closest friends were sent to a different high school. I felt very isolated.

I missed my old teachers so much that I hold go back and visit them. They world encourage me to get involved in a school activies so that I could meet new prople. They told me that in time I world abjust and probably end up loving my new schoolmore than I had my old one. They made me promise that when that happened I would still came by but I took some come fort in it nonetheless.

One Sunday afternoon, note long after I had  started high school, I was  sitting at home at our dining room table doing homework. It was a cold and windy fall day. And we had a fire going in aurfireplace. As usual, my red tabby  cat was lying on top of all my papers.