I'm moving houses tomorrow. Going out to take some polaroids of my street and my home today, it's funny how much I suddenly notice - things I never noticed before. How the back of my house looked from the far end of our luscious big yard, the oddly placed red tiles in my kitchen which I've suddenly taken a liking to, and yes, believe it or not, even how my house actually looked like from the front... things reminscent of my everyday life.
For the past couple of weeks, people have asked me, "how do you feel about the move?" And really, I had no answer. I didn't feel particularly sentimental, or maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet. I've lived in this house for nearly a decade now -- one filled with many significant moments of my life -- and yet, there were days where it didn't feel like a home, especially during times when I needed it to be. But it was also the place where I learned a great deal about who I am, and who I want to be.
It was also the house I began to truly start living with my parents, which the ten-year-old me at the time cherished. This place housed my flying adventures around our backyard (which translates into having a garden rack between my legs and either pretending I'm a wizard or a kungfu master, naturally), my failed attempts to keep multiple goldfish and cactus alive, and documented how breaking windows and glass screens became an unappreciated talent of mine (they were accidents, and it was only twice, okay).
For the past couple of weeks, people have asked me, "how do you feel about the move?" And really, I had no answer. I didn't feel particularly sentimental, or maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet. I've lived in this house for nearly a decade now -- one filled with many significant moments of my life -- and yet, there were days where it didn't feel like a home, especially during times when I needed it to be. But it was also the place where I learned a great deal about who I am, and who I want to be.
It was also the house I began to truly start living with my parents, which the ten-year-old me at the time cherished. This place housed my flying adventures around our backyard (which translates into having a garden rack between my legs and either pretending I'm a wizard or a kungfu master, naturally), my failed attempts to keep multiple goldfish and cactus alive, and documented how breaking windows and glass screens became an unappreciated talent of mine (they were accidents, and it was only twice, okay).
Soon, these polaroids will become a faint inkling of home, a distant picture of some teenhood, a memory. What's ahead, I'm not sure, but I've got a good feeling about this one. A real good feeling.
1 COMMENTS :
i used to move around a lot when i was younger and it made me sad when i did. i was envious of friends who lived in their houses for a long time and had bits and pieces that made their house theirs. like their kitchen door which had the markings of my friend and her siblings' heights throughout the years. it also had mine too since i was over there a lot. i hope you have a good move. enjoy your weekend!
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