I was born and raised in Staunton, Virginia, a small town where staying close to nature has always been part of my routine. I live on my maternal grandparents' farm with my mom. My grandfather takes care of the land and the animals, and I always help him with the daily chores. Horseback riding is one of my greatest passions. Life in the countryside, with the smell of wet soil and the sound of animals at dawn, is all I've ever known and loved.
My life started to change about a year ago, when my mom got married again. Little by little, our routine began to shift. It wasn't just the four of us anymore — my grandparents, my mom, and me. Then, about two months ago, I noticed that my mom was more thoughtful than usual.
"Mom, are you okay?" I asked, worried.
She hesitated for a moment and then called me over to talk. That's when she told me that her husband had received a job offer in France and that they would probably have to move there for a while.
My chest tightened. I had never been away from the farm for long. Leaving my home, my grandparents, my horse… the idea was impossible to accept. While she spoke, I watched her hands nervously twisting together. Then came the final blow:
"Sweetheart, your father doesn't want to authorize you to go with us."
Silence hung heavily between us.
I squeezed her hand, trying to show that everything was fine.
"It's okay, Mom. I'll stay with Grandma and Grandpa."
She let out a deep sigh before continuing, her voice full of sadness:
"My love, your father was very firm. If I'm away, you'll have to live with him."
Confusion washed over me. Even though my dad had always been present, he had never shown interest in having me live with him. But at the same time, I knew he had that right. When my parents separated, I was nine, and he never fought for custody. Now, however, he was the only option a judge would consider.
My mom looked at me with concern.
"Sweetie, I'm thinking about staying — for you."
In that moment, I realized that for the first time, it was my turn to sacrifice something for her.
I took a deep breath and, even with my heart aching, I decided:
"Mom, I want to live with Dad. It'll be good to spend this time with him."
She stared at me silently for a few seconds. Then a tear slipped from her eyes before she pulled me into a tight hug. We stayed there, my chest pressed against hers, feeling her heart pounding fast. We remained like that for long seconds.
A week later, my move to Florida became real. Every goodbye felt like a piece of me was being torn away: my grandparents, my horse, my dogs, my friends, my school… sixteen years of life left behind.
At Shenandoah Valley Airport, my mom and grandparents walked me to the gate. I felt numb, like I was on autopilot. Every few steps, I looked back. There they were, crying. My composure failed, and a single tear escaped. I wiped it quickly and kept going. During the flight, I ended up falling asleep.
When I arrived at the airport in Florida, my dad was waiting for me with a wide smile. I gave him a cold hug. He looked thrilled, but I just couldn't mirror his excitement. I had never been to his house before, and the uncertainty made me uneasy. For nine years, he was always the one who came to visit me — at least once a month.
In the car, silence filled the space between us. I stared out the window at the scenery: busy streets, smoke, so many cars, people everywhere. Everything felt overwhelming. I missed the green, the quiet of the farm.
When we arrived at my dad's house, I was surprised. It was beautiful from the outside — big, with a pool and a perfectly kept garden.
"Come on, I'll show you your room!" he said excitedly.
I followed him, but with each step, a strange discomfort grew inside me. Everything was so modern, so impersonal. The bright white lighting reminded me of a hospital. White dominated every corner — pristine, untouched, almost like no one really lived there. In the living room, there was a giant TV and a sectional sofa that looked like it had never been sat on.
When I entered my room, I felt like I had walked into a dollhouse. Everything was too pink. My eyes even hurt.
"If something's not the way you like it, we can change it. This house is yours too — I want it to feel like your home," my dad said hopefully.
But while he spoke, my attention drifted to the large glass window. At least that, I loved. I walked over and looked outside at the pool and the neighboring houses — all as big as my dad's. People walked along the condo streets, but something bothered me.
"Where are the horses? The bikes? The boots? The hats? None of this makes sense to me."
Will I ever get used to this place?