A lot of my friends that probably reads this blog have been traveling a bit, and are used to the idea of moving around. And one thing that always struck me is that everything seems to be the same when you go back. Rationally you know it’s not. Someone had a baby, some else got a new job, a couple broke up, another one found each other… But not real significant changes – to your life. You just experienced a lot, learned new stuff and has become somewhat of a different person than when you left. But all those things that happened at home, they happened without you, and therefore don’t really concern you. Until now.
A couple of days ago I got an e-mail from my sister telling me that my parents had bought an apartment and was planning on moving. Which in itself is not so dramatic. But this means that they would have to leave their home of over 30 years. My childhood home. The house I’ve celebrated 26 Christmases in. The house where I used to jump down the stairs at age two. The house where my sister got her (now) deformed finger squashed in the door. The house where I used to sneak-read (if that’s even a word) my books under the blanket. The house where David and Motoko lived with us. The house that is so familiar and holds most of my childhoods memories.
But I realized that this is not my home anymore. And I have no need for it anymore. My home is the general idea of Bodø. The small town, with all it’s fantastic people. And my home is my own apartment in Bodø. When I sit here in Juba, longing for home, it’s my home I want. Not my parents’ home. That house is just that – a memory. And these memories are still here, long after the house stopped having a emotional connection to me. So I’m fine with my parents’ decision. I think it a smart decision, and a sensible one. And it is very exciting that they’re are taking this huge step. I’m happy for them.
But it will be strange to come home and experience a change that affects me as well.
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5 comments:
I meet your mother last week and she told me about this. I still think it's soooo sad (and i'm glad my parents still live in my childhood-home) but you are right: It's not the house, but the people we love living in it that's importent. And chrismas day will still be just as nice :)
Same here... My dad is moving out of the farm this easter and my brother is moving in, rebuilding and redecorating. I will get a new room in dad's new house, but it will not be the same. But the changes are wanted by the "movers", and then it's fine!
I agree, home is where your loved ones are... Some days ago I and my 6 year old daughter met your mother. We had a nice chat, and on our way home, the 6-year old said: "S is rather strange". - How come?, I asked. "She does not behave the way old people usually do. I think she is old on the outside, and like a child inside".
Tone: That's sooo sweet! And so true :)
Hmmm, well, as long as we're still able to enjoy tea and the traditional pussle competition in Christmas? :)
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