Jana stared at the wall of her new house for what felt like hours. She held the dripping paintbrush by her side. Putting the brush to the wall would break the spell and make this move a reality.   

Had they really moved again? Jana tried to be angry about it. She had even yelled at her mom. She thought it would make her feel better, but she just felt numb.  

Crying seemed like a waste of time anyway. Jana knew that once her mom got an idea in her head, they would be stuck following the plan through to the end. Jana had felt like this many times before. It seemed like every time she would start to like a place or make new friends or love her new school, Mom would tell her it was time to leave again.  

The place they lived in before had started to feel like to a real home. It was on such a pretty piece of land. A creek flowed quietly nearby, offering views that inspired everyone who saw them. The old barn that seemed creepy at first had become the perfect art studio. The first time she walked up those creaky stairs, Jana saw the cracked windows and the spider webs and didn’t think it would be a good place to work on her art. She had been wrong.  

The loft windows had a view of the tall oak trees outside.  Jana had painted better things there than in any other place. Later, the perfect guy had kissed her under one of those oak trees on a perfect summer day just a few weeks ago.  

Jana didn’t want to even say his name. Now the happy memories were mixed with the sadness of having to move. He was close enough to call or text, but he would be too far to reach quickly by car (not that she had one of those). So she dared not spend too much time thinking of him. Jana was sure that he and her other friends would forget her soon anyway. 

Jana remembered the exact moment when her mother walked silently into the barn. Jana knew what to expect before her mother spoke a word. She had seen that look before. 

Jana barely heard the details about the better job and the awesome new school and how many friends she was sure to make. Her thoughts turned to that perfect guy and the perfect place that had inspired her to paint. Magic seemed to flow from her brush in that barn. She had paintings hung on all the walls. Her little “gallery” made her feel whole and happy.   

When her mother had told her about the move, Jana had cried silently. Her tears dropped like the paint that dripped from her paintbrush. The bright, inspiring barn-studio now felt dark in Jana’s memories.   

Jana decided that maybe she would put her art on hold for now—at least while all she could think to paint was fiery dragons eating princesses that looked like her mother. She didn’t want to slip into that dark place again, but she could feel it happening.  

Jana’s mother seemed cheerful about each move. Surely it was fake. Surely she couldn’t really feel that way. Moving wasn’t fun. Her mom was always the “new girl” at work, just like Jana was at school.  

But her mom always tried to make it sound like packing up their lives was an adventure. She said things like “Jana, every time we move, you get new ideas to put on the canvas,” or the best one yet, “Jana, you could be the female painter version of that famous author. You know the one.”