Past Blown Away
16th of February 2016
Every day is different. No day is ever the same. If it is, we are doing something wrong. Some of us have a hard time with change, but life is a series of changes that we learn to overcome. We don't always like the change, but we choose how to accept it. It's not always a healthy choice, but some changes are just hard to deal with. Dealing with change has never been a strength of mine, yet I get bored easily. Go figure.
In the last days of renting an apartment, I'm realizing that this is what's best for me. I just don't think I deserve it. My reasons are irrelevant. One day, I will have to realize that this is how it turned out. I'm making the best out of what I feel is a stressful situation. I'm not happy at the place I'm at now. I either needed to move out or live with it. I decided to move out. In doing such, everything around me is changing. I've mowed lawns before, and I've done house chores. However, now I'm going to do it at my own house. My name will be on the mortgage and title. That's just so surreal to me. I never thought I would own a home with my bad financial decisions in college. However, in order for this to happen, I needed to accept that the past is done, and I need to think about what future I have left.
When I'm at home, I'm always thinking about when I was a kid. I think about the friends I had and my family. I think about the trips we took, be it to California, Arizona, Sioux City or the random weekend trips we took. Those were good memories that I miss. What I would do to live those memories again. However, you can't put your arms around a memory. My mother has since passed away, and she was a main factor of those memories. She just wanted to see her kids happy. I guess that's a main reason I'm getting a house. However, now that I am getting a new home, this is my chance to start new memories. I need to accept that it's time to move on with my past and also into my future. I know I've dwelled on the past for quite some time, and I still might for a bit.
When I sold my mother's house (the same one I grew up in), I took this big rock from the front yard. I would always mess with the rock to see if I could move it. I would always try to lift it. I think I finally lifted it when I was in fifth grade. I only lifted it an inch, but I was still proud. When I took it from the yard (before closing mind you), I put it in my car, and I carried it up to my apartment. The life in my new house won't start until I place this rock in my front yard. This will remind me of the love I felt when I was growing up and to keep making memories in the house I've chosen as my own. It's a constant reminder of where I came from and had to leave behind to start my own.
