there are two families of people in my house
choosing which pieces of furniture they’ll soon be taking back to their own homes.
i think this is the saddest i’ve been so far, about moving out of this house. i don’t think i’ll particularly miss this house, in terms of its layout or location. my family has already been living in separate places for so long that it’s only as homey as an empty house can get. but when i see other moms and dads coming by to take pieces of my childhood away, i find myself not wanting to let go. i’m realizing as i write this that it’s not that i want to keep the blue couches or the old wooden kitchen table. it’s that i want to keep my childhood. i want to keep how comfortable i was when mommy and daddy were taking care of me, when they were paying for electricity and gas, when they were buying groceries, when they were making me breakfast and packing me lunch and picking me up from school.
i don’t want to see these people making good use of familiar and comfortable parts of my life. i don’t want to see them raising their own children to the likes of what belongs to my childhood.
i don’t want these only because i know, truly, i can’t stop this train.
