the other day, i sat with my best friend along the edge of the room observing the scenes at my brothers grad party take place as if it were a movie. my brother & his stoner friends mingled with inebriated adults while recent graduated had awkward conversations with their friends parents. my mom and her boyfriend started dancing. my little brother snuck all of his cards upstairs before it was all over. my dad kissed his girlfriend. basically, there was a lot to keep you entertained for hours.
& thats what it is always like in my house. i would come home from dance to my friends hanging out in my kitchen (that’s the place most of the action happens, & has always been my favorite place in the house). i’ve had countless dance parties, cooking challenges, deep talks, laughs & so much more.
but as i was taking in the scenes of the evening, it hit me that this will most likely be the last time i will be able to have this experience. after living in this tired house for 20 years, i am moving. when i look at my kitchen, i see the memories. yet, the people who are moving in will see a place to cook. knowing that the place i have called home since birth will no longer be my home is heartbreaking.
but that’s just the way it is. i always knew it would come to an end, it is just harder than i expected. so for now, all i can do is try to capture all of the details into my memory & remind myself that home is not a location, but a state of mind.
