Iâve moved several times before, but this one hurts the most.
When I was 10, my best friend in the world gave me a rock from his backyard and told me to take it with me to California. The marbled white stone sat on my nightstand for years, reminding me of where I came from and who I was missing.
When I was 18, I moved, as a lot of teenagers do, to pursue my education at a 4-year university. I le...