“I thought you would be a little sad about the house finally being gone”, My husband said. “Nope. That house wasn’t a home for a long time now. It was gone long before I moved out”, I said.
When my dad and mom filed for divorce and he moved out, the home we grew up in where we knew so much love & joy, slowly started to lose it’s effect. The story started to slowly unfold and the reasoning for me not speaking to my dad (who I thought was this terrible person) became stupid, irrelevant and childish. I was starting to understand his reasoning for leaving, I was starting to see the unhappy home he stayed in for years because of us girls and I started to applaud him for getting out when he did because it was only getting worse.
After moving away from home, I moved in with a best friend and her family. They were some of the best people I knew. Throughout high school and a lot of good and bad times, that family always opened their home to me if I was ever in need. So when the time came, I moved out of my “home” and moved in with my best friend and her family. It was really wonderful, we always had a blast together and spending too much time together never affected our friendship, it was still as strong as ever. I moved out of there to go to college out-of-state only to come back a semester later and move in with my grandparents. I grew up with my grandparents being like a second set of parents to me. I was attached to them something fierce. They always took care of me, granddad always cooked breakfast and dinner. I cooked with grandma from time to time and would find new recipes to cook for them. We had a blast. My friends loved them. They loved my friends so whenever people were over, they loved it. Whenever I would be going out for the night, my grandma would always tell me to wait up for her, she was coming with us. She wanted to dance and do shots, she swore she would be a lot of fun! She cracked me up, not because she was bluffing because we all knew what a blast she would be if she came. Haha.
I learned very quickly that it isn’t about where you were that made it a home. It was about who you were with, the way you felt, the laughter and jokes you created, the love, the memories, the friends and family, blood-related or not at all. A lot of who are apart of my family aren’t blood-related but it doesn’t matter, I don’t treat them any different. If anything – they’ve treated me more like family than some of my family members. My friends have become permanent parts of my life and part of my family & I wouldn’t have it any other way.
So no, I’m not sad about losing a place where I grew up because honestly, there were a lot of homes that I grew up in, that was just the home I resided in the longest. I will always cherish the memories that I had there. I will cherish the good times and the bad but I’ve found that my home resides wherever my family is. Whether it be in a mansion or a double-wide. That is where my home is. We have love wherever we go, we create memories wherever we are, our laughter and jokes are carried with us throughout our journey together and apart.