“It’s just a house” I kept telling myself. A building. Bricks and mortar. I was being my usual silly sentimental self. Only it’s not just a house is it, our childhood homes mean more to us than that. It was the view I’ll forever miss.
Have you ever been attached to a building before?
This could be any building, a school, a cinema, a home…. I have. I always get so so attached to them. Like my high school, which has since been knocked down and rebuilt, I think fondly to the old buildings.
Or a cinema me and my husband used to work at. It was quirky, old and had character. It was where we met. Where we shared our first kiss. Where ultimately we fell in love with the building, then each other.
My home. A home my family lived in since I was 9 years old… home. I have the most incredible attachment to this place. It’s where I grew up, where I got my first boyfriend, had sleepovers with my friends, had my own children grow up. But most of all, it was home, where my family was. The people who I adored the most. And the memories there are so so precious.
Time to let go…
It wasn’t so long ago, when my parents told me they were going to move. Yes, closer to me, but none the less this meant leaving this family home. The one I had grown so fond of.
When I think of ‘home’, I don’t think of where I am living now with my little family, I think of that home. I picture me and my family, big and small sitting around in the living room, the fire blazing and keeping us warm and cosy, Saturday night TV on, the kids running around riot and us eating, drinking and playing games. I picture being sat around the table, Mum serving us up a Sunday roast. I picture going to bed, in my room there. I picture the kids splashing in the paddling pool outside, running up and down the garden hill.
When I’d had my last family weekend there, it was incredibly sad. It was sad to know that I would never really ever go ‘home’ again.
That View Though…
Have you ever seen a view so beautiful you have to capture it with your phone camera? This home had one, overlooking fields and the sun would set behind it and create just the most incredible views.
Whenever I felt down, or life had me feeling like I was in a conundrum, I would always go and stand on this familiar spot, looking out to this view. I would take deep breathes, and know that life was just gonna be ok. Home made that ok. That view made it ok.
Now, I’ll never see that view again. But it’s etched into my brain, my memory. A view which calmed me. Which grounded me. Which stunned me. A view with a thousand feelings.
An empty shell
On the day my parents moved out, I went back to the house. Technically it was an empty shell, but as I walked through the caucus, I felt love and warmth. I saw memories flash before my eyes as I saw child me, teen me and adult me walking the rooms and living those memories one last time.
I looked at the little details, told my children of the things that happened in those rooms. Laughed at the toilet and bathrooms for always being the room people could never unlock once they were in there, and felt the panic all over again that you were trapped.
I walked through…
The bedrooms were empty, but this wasn’t unusual as we would often swap rooms through the years so I had seen them empty before. But the living room and kitchen had never been empty.
I stood in them, taking it all in. The family rooms.
These were the rooms we would laugh the most in. Good food, good company and great memories.
The carpets looked worn out, we had loved and lived the life out of them. The kitchen looked strange.
I locked up and left. As I drove down the driveway, the house slowly disappeared out of sight. The tears fell.
The View I’ll Forever Miss
The view over the hills. The view of my family in the kitchen laughing whilst trying to suck up a creme caramel. The view of the fire crackling and the heat coming off, warming us on a cold winters night. The view of the bonfire and fireworks lighting the sky in the garden. The view of the tree etched with ‘4G’s’. The view of the hallway which always creeped me out. The view of the quant shed in the edging of the garden. The view of my Dad’s messy office. The view of the hills on the garden. The view of my cosy bedroom there.
But that view…. the one of the house peeking out of the trees. Sitting on a beautiful driveway, behind the gate.
That’s the view I’ll forever miss.