I recently found out that my mom will be selling the house that I grew up in. While this is a very practical thing, I don't exactly know how I feel about it. I mean I know that I don't live there now, nor have I lived there for several years, I am still kind of feeling like I am losing part of my innocence. The place I've called home for so long will now belong to someone else, and I won't be able to go back and run through the halls where I created so many memories.
I won't be able to wash my face in the pedestal sink that I used for my greatest April fool's day prank. And I won't be able to sit on the window box in the living room remembering looking out at the schoolyard while talking on the phone to boys.
Yes, I know the important thing is that I carry the memories of that home with me, so the physical home itself is not really so important, but still, the attachment is there.
Its a strange thing to feel like you can never go home again... At least not to the place you thought of as home.