I Just Called to Say Goodbye

Human beings are not naturally predisposed to dealing well with change.  Change is hard.  It doesn't matter how many times things change, it's not really something we get used to.  Sure, we may develop better coping mechanisms, like muscles that improve with exercise.  But it doesn't matter how many mountains we scale; getting to the top is still work.

Today my family says goodbye to our "family base" of 16 and a half years.  We moved in right before Christmas of '93.  The youngest of us was only nine months old.  Our Christmas tree was a happy poinsettia in the front room.  Since then, we've all grown, become our own people, moved away (except the youngest), made lives for ourselves.  I've personally moved more times than I can remember in the last four years, been married, and changed myself in more ways than I ever thought possible.  Somehow, this is still an Everest.

Maybe I'm just a nostalgic person.  Call me emotional, sensitive, overly connected.  Maybe it's all even true.  But that doesn't change the fact that it's hard.  It's not life-ending.  It's not even really that wrenching.  It simply requires letting go.  But with letting go comes a re-evaluation, a restructuring of perception, understanding, and, not to be melodramatic, but in many ways of existence.  That which has been there for over 16 years is no longer.  There is no building to replace it, no room that can share the same memories.  We have no place that speaks of family, no physical location to bind us all together.  From now on, there will be no "going home."  Sometimes, it's hard for us to admit that family is important.  Our generation tends to shun familial connections as "uncool."  We are smart, young, independent people who exist outside our upbringing and our roots.  We've "moved past" that.  As a generation, it's our loss.  I come from a big family, and I love that my best friends are my siblings.  It took me a while, but I got there.  I love them all in ways no only child will ever be able to experience.  We may not all be close, but we share a bond.  We may hate each other from time to time, we may not talk for months, we may totally disagree about the ways in which we live our lives, but here we are.  My happiness is partially wrapped up in theirs, like our parents' joy is partially dependent upon ours.  I could never move away and feel whole without interacting with them...I've tried.  I love my siblings and my parents, and that bond was represented by the house.  I'm scared that last tether will let us all disperse to the winds like dandelion seeds.

An era ends at 2pm, and as with all beginnings I have no idea what the new one will be like.  I knew it would happen this year.  I even chose to start my own branch of the family this year because of it.  I've been feeling the approach of this cycle's end for several years now, acknowledge the signs, and like an animal preparing for winter accrued enough stores with which to weather its trials.  I have not doubted in the last ten months that by August all will be as it should be.  It's a bone-deep certainty that's never left me.  But still I struggle to let go of what was.

Change is scary not because of what we leave behind but because of the unknown stretching out ahead of us.  This one change heralds an army of others.  Some will do battle and some will slip quietly into the night with barely a whisper to its passing.  But change is coming.  I feel it on the wind.  I only hope I can embrace it and do with it the best I can, for myself, my old family and my new family.  All I can do is all we can ever do when faced with Everest: Strap on a pack, take a deep breath, and be grateful I'm not going alone.

Goodbye, House.  I will regret not being able to introduce you to my children and seeing them run around you.  I will miss the Christmas trees, the cookies, your ghosts and your gremlins.  I will miss your stability and safety, and cherish the laughter and tears you held for us.  I won't miss the feet thundering me awake in the morning, but that was hardly your fault.  You were good to us, and I know you will be good for your new people.  I hope someday I can find a place that my children will love as much as we loved you.  May your rooms echo joy and the birds not peck you to death.  It was a good run.