My House.
It all happened like this.
It was Christmas...on the outside you would have thought everything was normal...we had our tree, the house was decorated as usual...the family was all together. But I knew that in reality it was completely different. I knew because downstairs there were boxes full of our things... toasters and books...bed side tables and picture frames...memories.
My room...I went in for the last time that it was still my room three years ago. I closed the door behind me, and locked it...laid down on the floor and looked around at the now bare walls, the clean, uncovered carpet...the empty shelves...and I cried. I walked over to my small closet and sat down inside, took out a pen and wrote on the wall..."Kathleen lived here from 1985 to 2003". I had never had a different house...I had only ever slept in that same room...
Having a house gives you stability. It provides security...knowing that there is a place where the world can't see you...where you can be yourself...where you can dance to stupid music when you clean, and paint the walls your favorite colors. For me, even though I haven't been able to live in my house for the past 4 years, the knowing that it was still sitting there in Ranchridge Court waiting for me did make me feel better...knowing that it was still technically my house.
But soon it won't be. And I'm sad.
You know, maybe it's for the better...maybe moving back into a house that is so full of memories under different circumstances would be weird.
But I will still miss it...and I think, for a long time, I'll still think of it as home.
It was Christmas...on the outside you would have thought everything was normal...we had our tree, the house was decorated as usual...the family was all together. But I knew that in reality it was completely different. I knew because downstairs there were boxes full of our things... toasters and books...bed side tables and picture frames...memories.
My room...I went in for the last time that it was still my room three years ago. I closed the door behind me, and locked it...laid down on the floor and looked around at the now bare walls, the clean, uncovered carpet...the empty shelves...and I cried. I walked over to my small closet and sat down inside, took out a pen and wrote on the wall..."Kathleen lived here from 1985 to 2003". I had never had a different house...I had only ever slept in that same room...
Having a house gives you stability. It provides security...knowing that there is a place where the world can't see you...where you can be yourself...where you can dance to stupid music when you clean, and paint the walls your favorite colors. For me, even though I haven't been able to live in my house for the past 4 years, the knowing that it was still sitting there in Ranchridge Court waiting for me did make me feel better...knowing that it was still technically my house.
But soon it won't be. And I'm sad.
You know, maybe it's for the better...maybe moving back into a house that is so full of memories under different circumstances would be weird.
But I will still miss it...and I think, for a long time, I'll still think of it as home.
posted by kathleen at 10:39 PM
3 Comments:
That sounds so sad Leensie. But I must admit, I am confused. Did your parents keep their house til now? Or why is it only gonna "not be your house" when they have been in Oman for a while now? Am I missing something :)
Hope you're doing well! Miss you.
i miss you kathleen, and love you as well. it was so pleasant to see a comment on my blog from you. thanks again for the chats at alumni.
janell
hey kids...
um...so i've kind of learned the lesson on not blogging about something that's not for sure yet.
Um...we get to keep our house now... ha ha....
guess i jumped on that train a little too fast...
love you all...
kate
Post a Comment
<< Home