For Sale
How do you come to terms with your past being put up for sale?
How do you shut the door and walk away from the house you've been desperately wanting to return to for four years?
I understand that change is a part of life...but if you can control it...why do it to yourself?
I've seen lives shift...crack apart under the strain of change. And that scares me. I have enough change to deal with for the time being. Graduating. Starting a job. I feel like there's enough on my plate and now there's this.
Visions of me, sweating under a blistering sun, carrying my life in boxes out of a room that I spent three months perfecting.
I sat in that very room as a middle schooler and dreamed of high school. I stood on my bed one summer and painted the rocky mountains over my headboard. I stayed up late using a black controller to realize my dreams of being a fighter pilot. I ventured between worlds through the books that grace my book shelves. I remember walking up the unfinished wooden stairs and seeing it for the first time. Standing in the unfenced backyard and watching the grassy fields stretch out to the sunset.
I danced around the living room when no one else was home. I walked through the front door after each harrowing drive from TCU to find my cat sitting just were I had left her. I sat at that dining room table for every holiday and birthday, for homemade cakes and coffee with friends. I stood in that kitchen a thousand times looking for a snack. I pulled my car into that driveway and knew I was home.
So how do I come to terms with watching the root of my memories for the past eight years disappear in the rearview mirror?
How do you shut the door and walk away from the house you've been desperately wanting to return to for four years?
I understand that change is a part of life...but if you can control it...why do it to yourself?
I've seen lives shift...crack apart under the strain of change. And that scares me. I have enough change to deal with for the time being. Graduating. Starting a job. I feel like there's enough on my plate and now there's this.
Visions of me, sweating under a blistering sun, carrying my life in boxes out of a room that I spent three months perfecting.
I sat in that very room as a middle schooler and dreamed of high school. I stood on my bed one summer and painted the rocky mountains over my headboard. I stayed up late using a black controller to realize my dreams of being a fighter pilot. I ventured between worlds through the books that grace my book shelves. I remember walking up the unfinished wooden stairs and seeing it for the first time. Standing in the unfenced backyard and watching the grassy fields stretch out to the sunset.
I danced around the living room when no one else was home. I walked through the front door after each harrowing drive from TCU to find my cat sitting just were I had left her. I sat at that dining room table for every holiday and birthday, for homemade cakes and coffee with friends. I stood in that kitchen a thousand times looking for a snack. I pulled my car into that driveway and knew I was home.
So how do I come to terms with watching the root of my memories for the past eight years disappear in the rearview mirror?
Comments
Post a Comment