You can’t go home again…

In this case I’m being fairly literal. I used some of my precious vacation hours (those that’s I’m trying to save up for my honeymoon in January) to help my parents move out of the house they’ve liked in for the past 12 – 13 years. I was still living at home, a teenager, when we moved into that house so I did a lot of growing up there. When I got overwhelmed living in the city while going to school, it was that house, that I moved home to so that I could finish my degree. In high school it was often a place where my friends and I hung out. Where we had many D&D games gathered around the large table. Watched many movies. Set up LAN parties, especially when my parents were out-of-town. It’s where my step brothers and I became family. It was home in every sense of the word for many of my most formative years. Granted I had a second home (divorced parents) and it’s just as important to me, but that one seems to be sticking around for a while. Yesterday, was the 2nd day of moving, but the only one I could get away from work for to help. It was a little like walking through a graveyard, seeing the place empty. I could feel the shadows of memories lurking along every surface and dancing just at the corner of my vision.

I think that it feels a bit worst knowing that the house was “lost” that in many senses it was taken from us. Along with the sadness of saying goodbye, there was bitterness over how this country has fallen into such desperate straits. I’m not going to claim that my family was entirely victimized by the bank industry. It was a combination of the horrible corrupt system, but also bad decisions, bad luck, and the rest of the economy going to hell. Yesterday I could understand the frustration and rage that many people feel in this situation that leads them to do nasty things to a home that they’ve been forcibly removed from, things like knocking out walls, breaking stuff, and generally vindictively destroying the thing they loved. Spitting in the eye of the bank that took it, often while in the same breath denying that they had any responsibility in the problem. I was glad that didn’t happen yesterday though, and if it does happen that I won’t have to watch it or see the aftermath. I was glad to just be able to say my goodbyes.

The new home that my parents are renting is smaller, with all the kids gone they don’t need all the space as much, but in many other ways I think it could end up being the ideal home for them. It has character and history, and lots of land for their animals (horses and dogs), and is really the type of place that they’ve wanted for a long time. They just couldn’t sell the house they had. I’m really happy they found the place that they did, because it was a truly lucky find. It will even become their home over time I believe. Eventually it’ll even become comfortable and familiar to me. We’ll have family gatherings there, and the fiance and I will probably house sit occasionally. It’s a place that I’ll go to find 2 of my 4 parents, and I know they’ll always be there for me (if not always at the same address), but that place will never be my “home”, not like the place I said goodbye to yesterday.

I thought I’d have a lot more anger writing this post. I know my parents feel a lot more. For me, I just feel the loss right now. I just feel sad.

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