Right now my mind is muddled mess. For those of you who follow this blog, or know me personally, you’re probably aware of the fact that my parents sold their house. This week I flew to California for a total of three days to help them pack and move. When I arrived most of the packing had been done. The only thing that was left were those annoying odds and ends that don’t really go anywhere, but you use on a daily basis. That’s what I got to help with. We left California on Monday around six in the evening. The hardest part for me about the whole thing, aside from coming to terms with the fact that I won’t be back to the desert for God knows how long, was leaving the house itself.
My family moved into that house when I was eight years old. We’ve had many a birthday, Halloween and Christmas at that house. When I was younger I would imagine myself coming home with a family of my own and that was the house I always saw. So it was actually quite painful to walk away from it knowing that I would never know who was inside it again. The emptiness of it didn’t bother me; it felt lonely to me. It honestly felt like leaving a pet behind or something. I felt like we were forgetting something so I went on at least three walk throughs and peeked in every closet, opened every empty drawer and cupboard and found them all cleaned out. It took me awhile to realize the thing we were forgetting was the house itself.