Not knowing what exactly to expect in the future is a scary thought. So, if you have ever moved, you can probably imagine how I felt as I drove away from my friendly, welcoming home. I was not able to get rid of the feeling of regret growing in my stomach, or was it emptiness?
My family has talked and talked about moving for awhile now because a one bathroom house was getting a bit small for a family of 4, especially for my older brother, Alex.
We scrolled through the houses on the old Dell Computer, my dad practically fainting from some of the prices in Easton.
“Next…next…next” my mom mumbled to my dad.
“Oh wait. No. Scroll back up!”
I quickly snuck up behind them, trying to catch glimpses of the house.
After my parents investigated for about twenty minutes, they came to a conclusion of going to the open house, which just happened to be today. Hooray…
So, when the time neared to go visit the house, I purposefully sat in the kitchen and read my book not wanting to go see any house, knowing, that just this one visit could lead to much more.
“Don’t make me ask you twice, Nicole” my dad said while scarfing down a cookie, before walking out the front door.
I rolled my eyes, hopped of my seat, and dragged myself the Honda.
I honestly think that we could have been at the open house for about two hours. TWO HOURS. That is like a year for a ten year old. But, I should have been happier then because the real bad news, came two weeks after, during dinner.
“So, we wanted to wait before we told you” my mom shared a stare with my dad then finished her sentence, “…we bought the house!”
I dropped my fork, no longer wanting to eat, even if it was pasta.
“That is…great…” I responded.
I got up, and strolled up to my room, not wanting to disappoint my parents with the sadness on my face.
The next month went by way too fast for my liking. We packed all our stuff and by the time I was finished, I didn’t really get to enjoy my last days in the house I learned to love, and have lived in for, well, my whole life. Yes, I admit, I always loved the idea of moving. Getting to experience new places, meet new people, and even change yourself but, I never really thought about what came with it, leaving my home and friends.
So, as I closed the door behind me, savoring the last glimpses of the old, not furnished house, I took a deep breath and turned toward the car,
I stepped into the car and drove away, farther and farther from my childhood. I pressed my cheek against the glass window, watching the soft rain drops hit the glass and sensing that everyone in the car was probably feeling the same way as I was.
Finally, we arrived at the house. Not really my house yet, until, it smelled like home and the 100 paintings my mom collected were hung against the bare wall.
I unlocked the door and dragged myself into the unknown setting. I stood there for a second just taking in the arched doorways and the perfect hardwood floor then, I stumbled up the steps to what was now my room.
It was sizable. There were two very bright windows unlike the opaque ones in my old house, two closets, and a whole lot of space.
Then, something caught my eye.
One of the windows lead to the roof. I was trying so hard to push away the thought of climbing onto it but, could not resist the urge. I locked the creaky door and made my way to the dark roof.
I squeezed one leg through the opening and poked my head under, nearly breaking my neck as I jump through and landed on the roof. I stumbled a bit until I was perfectly balanced on the slightly sloped roof.
I sprawled out onto the warm tiles and let myself soak in the relaxing April sun, parting with my fears and worries of what has yet to come my way.
But, as I layed on the roof, I was determined to let go of the empty feeling and welcome this new home.
That feeling, though, would always be there because even after unpacking all my things, those big packing boxes would be empty. Yet, the most important part, would be full.