goodbye to my childhood home

the highs and lows of the home i became myself in

goodbyes are beautifully tragic. it is leaving something behind to say hello to something new. we are waving farewell to a piece of life that, even if the sentiment no longer holds, had once been special to us.

for me, this is the case with the house that i have called my home for a little over a decade now. i was not born in this house, i did not learn to swim in this house, i did not have my first sleepovers in this house. you could say it is not even my childhood home. however, to me, this is the home where i went through the best and the worst times of my life. i have eaten countless breakfasts in this house, i came home to my first dog Oliver in this house, i graduated high school in this house, and i cried thousands of tears for countless reasons in this house.

memories decorate our home, things have changed since we first moved in, the color of the walls, the furniture in each room, and the pictures hanging on the walls. every corner is filled with stories. my mothers bedroom, which we redecorated as a surprise for her so she could feel refreshed and happy in it. the chipped paint on my brothers sliding doors from when my dog was a puppy. the side of the my house with the huge windows where my best friends and i sang our hearts out in a midday karaoke session, and have had many dance lessons in. this is the home in which my friends became my family, the backdrop of all of my facetimes and zoom calls. it is the address saved my in my phone, and the place i long for when i am far away for too long.

with that hefty exposition, i am sure that anyone could understand why i would have a hard time leaving it. it means so much to me. but i know why it’s time to go. sometimes leaving is the harder, braver choice. and i know my mom is right when she says that the time has come for a fresh start.

because home is supposed to be a safe and beautiful place. but my home has also been a place where some hard things have happened. those things don’t erase themselves with new paint, new pictures, and rearranged furniture. sometimes we need a new environment to truly heal from the trauma. how can we be expected to heal in the same exact place in which we were hurt so deeply?

and yet, i still find myself digging my heels in the sand. i resist. but i will, reluctantly so, move forward. i will put up a fight but i know its for the better, so i will give in.

i find goodbyes to be a challenge most of the time. saying goodbye to something that was at one time good, will always be bittersweet. therefore, packing up my room and taking one last look around my home is going to sting.

home is familiarity and comfort. it’s knowing the way i walk my neighborhood like the back of my hand, and knowing the cars of my neighbors, but most importantly a home is the people who call it that. it is hearing my brother and my mom laughing in the living room. and cuddling my dog on the couch. it is every discussion we have had, whether laughing or crying.

i cried here, i lost here, i hurt here, and i became myself here. my next home will become my home too, i will make new memories there, and i imagine that they will be even greater than these ones. but i have to cope with the fact that i can’t ever go home, this home at least, again. it’s the start of a new chapter, but the end of a very special one as well.

to say goodbye is to express good wishes when parting or the end of a conversation. goodbye is the period at the end of a sentence. it is final, which is scary. but it means that now, a new thought has room to begin, and to grow. i am writing so that i can process my own feelings on this ending. it’s never easy, but it’s necessary.

the crazy thing about life (well, one of my many crazy things) is that we will never been in the same place again. we are constantly facing self-reinvention and an ever changing environment. we cannot stop the world from turning, so at some point, we must learn to roll with the punches, to moving with the waves rather than swim against the tide.

so here i am, swimming with the tide. doing my best to sit in each moment before it becomes a memory and learning how to say goodbye, learning the beauty of closure. some never learn those lessons, but i think we would all be better off if we could learn the beauty of, and how to face the frightening reality of, change.

i am not the girl i was when i unpacked my boxes eleven years ago, but i carry her with me in the woman i am saying goodbye.