Today will be my last day in the house I grew up in. After 50 years at 25 Rockwood Road, my parents are moving. I’m proud of them for being proactive. Moving to a retirement community on their own terms. Making all the decisions, choosing what is best for them. It’s truly a gift to me and my brother, that they are doing this. And I know it’s the right decision. But tell my heart that. Yesterday, I was short tempered and weepy off and on, to the point it would surprise me when my eyes would well up. And then I remembered, I’ll be saying goodbye today. I know it’s just a place, a building with rooms, with a backyard of trees and fallen leaves. But it has been a constant in all of my 48 years. My car knows the way without me tugging at the wheel.
My Mom transformed my bedroom into an office years ago. My bunk bed stripped of a mattress and laden heavy with boxes of files and stacks of reports and journals. But it’s the place I spent many a moment figuring out who I was. I came out to myself in that room. That room was the only place I didn’t have to hide every part of who I was. Many nights and afternoons spent ruminating and convincing myself I could change or hide a part of who I was for the rest of my life, even though I had barely begun to understand who I could be.
I will miss walking up the slate rock walk to the dark orange front door. I will miss looking out the wall of windows in the living room at the Silk tree. I will miss the familiar warm feeling as I open the front door and hear my Mom’s voice call me in.
But I have over four decades of memories alive and ambling inside me. Right now I feel the loss of what has been for so long, but I know in the days to come, there will be more memories made in new places. And I will walk through a new front door and begin again.