I’ve never been good at change. I didn’t like it when my mom get new curtains in our living room, or when we got new glasses for our kitchen. So when big changes happen, you can say I’m not the biggest fan. When I found out the house I grew up in sold and a new family was moving in, I was in denial. Another change was coming and I was not happy about it.
Although I moved out of my house to my an apartment at the beginning of September and now consider this place my home, I always knew that I had home to go back to. In fact, I have two houses I can go back to. However, the one in the town of my high school where all of my friends are is the one I spent most of my time. When we put the house on the market in the summer, I knew that one day it would sell to someone else. I really didn’t believe it was happening until it actually sold. I know a lot of people who’s families move out of their childhood homes once they are in college or graduate, so I know this is a typical thing that happens. It’s always weird when it happens to you.
I went back yesterday (reluctantly) to pack up the rest of my things. Since I brought most of my furniture and all my clothes with me, it was all the miscellaneous stuff that was left. I have a huge floor to ceiling shelf in my room that is filled with memories and junk. It had everything from my Harry Potter books, to Swarovski glass animals, to old souvenirs from various trips. All these things I wanted to keep and someday hope to put on display in my own house.
When I was done packing up my room (which took longer than expected since I don’t know how to pack), I sat down on my bed and thought about all the memories I had in my house: All the nights I spent in my room; all the conversations about life I had in our office; the time I wet a Twister mat with water and soap and made a slip-n-slide in my basement; and when my sister broke her foot by jumping off a chair copying me (still not my fault). It doesn’t seem real that they’re moving out of the house I grew up in.
I know I live in my own place now, but it is weird to think about another family moving into my childhood home and my own family not being there. I hope the new family makes great memories there and most importantly, doesn’t make too many changes to my room (it will always be mine). It’s time for a new chapter for everyone.
Thanks house for all the memories house, but time to move out and move on.