: The Last Night
It was something like 13 years ago that I first took up occupancy in this room. I talked about it in the last entry, but this time, it's different. It's been 13 years in this room, but twenty-five years since I've been living here. As of tomorrow (that is, if this illness doesn't get the better of me [as I fear it is]), I will be moved out and sleeping in my new apartment.
Person by person, we've been leaving here. Sometimes in a negative way, some times in a positive way. Sometimes with a promise to come back. Sometimes not. Janine first, then Travis, then Mom, then Eric, and now me.
I've been telling people over the past year or so that this place doesn't even feel like home. And maybe it doesn't. Not like it used to be. But that doesn't mean it didn't. And that doesn't mean that sometimes, it still does.
I grew up here. Played in the yard, watched TV in the family room, read in the living room, baked in the kitchen, and I was the only one to occupy every non-parent bedroom. Leaving it is . . . I can't really say that I'm feeling anything, really. Sadness, yes. Fear, to an extent. Happiness, yeah.
Will I miss it here? Absolutely. Am I ready to move on? To start anew? Yeah.
So, good bye, old house. I'll stop by when I can.
~W~
It was something like 13 years ago that I first took up occupancy in this room. I talked about it in the last entry, but this time, it's different. It's been 13 years in this room, but twenty-five years since I've been living here. As of tomorrow (that is, if this illness doesn't get the better of me [as I fear it is]), I will be moved out and sleeping in my new apartment.
Person by person, we've been leaving here. Sometimes in a negative way, some times in a positive way. Sometimes with a promise to come back. Sometimes not. Janine first, then Travis, then Mom, then Eric, and now me.
I've been telling people over the past year or so that this place doesn't even feel like home. And maybe it doesn't. Not like it used to be. But that doesn't mean it didn't. And that doesn't mean that sometimes, it still does.
I grew up here. Played in the yard, watched TV in the family room, read in the living room, baked in the kitchen, and I was the only one to occupy every non-parent bedroom. Leaving it is . . . I can't really say that I'm feeling anything, really. Sadness, yes. Fear, to an extent. Happiness, yeah.
Will I miss it here? Absolutely. Am I ready to move on? To start anew? Yeah.
So, good bye, old house. I'll stop by when I can.
~W~
Current Mood: 
nostalgic
nostalgic