I’m surrounded by boxes.
I’ve lived in the same house in Indiana since I was six years old, save for a few years in college, and after today, I’ll probably never set foot in it again. We’re moving out, after sixteen years of living here.
It didn’t hit me until last night what that really meant. The concept of moving out was a vague, blurry idea somewhere in the future. Then, last night, I went to get a fork out of the drawer and all of the silverware was gone. Suddenly, it hit me. Our silverware will never be in that drawer again. At that point, the idea of moving out became sharply focused into something very real and very strange.
I started thinking about our back yard, and how I’ll never mow it or play with my dog in it again. I thought about our living room, how we’ll never rearrange the furniture to project a movie on that wall again. I thought of my parents’ room, where I could go if I ever had a bad dream as a little kid, and how I’ll never be in that place of comfort and security again.
And then I thought about all the things I had done in my room. The time I spent there with friends, the band practices, the recording sessions, the hours on the phone late at night, or reading books without a care as to when I had to wake up in the morning. I’d never do any of these things in that room again.
It’s funny how attached we get to physical spaces. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been in love with this house; my parents deserve a much nicer place, and they can afford one, so I’m very happy for them. And I know that I can do all of the things that I used to do in my room in other places. I’ll find a new place to practice drums, to write music, to watch movies. I’m not worried about that. But knowing that I can never come back to this place where I experienced all of these things for the first time seems wrong. How can anyone else live in this space that I’ve lived most of my life?
At the same time, some of these boxes filling my room are an exciting reminder of the opportunities I have ahead of me. I’m moving to an apartment in Boston in September to live with one of my best friends and study music. I’ll have a new place to grow and learn and live, and that’s thrilling. It’s a fantastic opportunity, and I plan to make the most of it.
So I’ll probably never come back to this house, but there will be other houses and new experiences to be had. Who knows what my next room will bring. I guess that’s up to me.