I still remember how sad I was when we left. I wish we weren't going on this trip. I liked the house and I didn't want to leave. I remember when my Dad closed that one door and when he did, we couldn't get in ever again.
And I liked my room. My once-green room. I was sad when it was painted. And I was sadder when I had to leave it. It was maybe my favorite thing. Maybe it wasn't but it was something I really liked.
I don't know how I will handle leaving a house every 2 months. I might not get attached to the houses in the same way.