Isn’t it funny how you can spend nearly three years in a place, call this place your home, and then in the rush of moving out forget to say goodbye?
I spent the entire weekend moving. I sorted through piles of clothes, books and memorabilia. I took a moment to pause over a box of things from my ex-boyfriend that I found by mistake. It hit me like a ton of bricks. But the moment passed, I packed everything up with a positive thought to the universe and that was that.
I gave away a majority of my possessions. These are the things that I have been lugging around for the past eight years. I had furniture from my childhood that I have always had a weird attachment to, two bookcases full of books, clothes that I hadn’t worn in years but they held some memory in the sleeves.
I am somewhat of a homebody. These things are loaded with my history. With looming change and the inevitability of growing up (sort of), it was time to let go.
I am someone who would have appreciated having some sort of séance for the house. A recognition that this place was where I built my first garden bed, shared my home with a boy for the first time, had my heart-broken completely and learned to heal through living with my best friend.
This house was the kitchen with the shiny surfaces and the shoddy craftsmanship. This house was the yard turned jungle where the pup spent hours chasing bugs. This house was the multitude of ridiculous dance parties, too much alcohol and hang-over-mornings watching bad romantic comedies. This was the house near the lake. I would walk a few blocks and I had my solitude—just my running shoes, my music and my dog.
This house was my home.
With the hustle and bustle of moving and cleaning while working a full-time job, I didn’t have anytime to be nostalgic. A little ball of stress, I rolled through the moving process on a mission. By my seventh good will run I was just ready to be done with the place.
How sad. I feel like leaving a place you call home should involve some sort of ritual. A moment of silence for all of those things you carried, shared and loved while you were living there.
A good friend from my childhood would have taken the time. She would have created a fire in the back yard, wrote down the memories from the house, and said a proper goodbye. Back in the day we would have made fun or her for being too sentimental. Today, I wish I would have had her by my side so I took the time to have that moment of recognition.
Instead, I found myself alone after all my roommates had left eating kale slaw on the ground while my very confused hound dog stared at me through the back door. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t feel the lump in my throat (like I am feeling right now) as I stared around at the empty house. It is funny how much a place can seep into your pores and become a part of you.
So here is my proper good-bye. An ode to the old house by the lake. The house with far too many “quirks” that we grew to accept. The house with thin windows and squeaky wood floors. The house with the 1970s retro bathroom and my two walk in closets (this I will miss). The house with the kind neighbors and the sound of the freeway that became a lullaby in the evening.
Thank you house, for all that you were.
Kale Cashew & Mint Slaw
Original Shutter Bean recipe
*This slaw is AMAZING. My bestie had it posted on her Facebook, and it went viral. Everyone is making it. Also, this blog rocks my world. I heart a good food blog.* serves 4
1 bunch lacinato kale, shredded
2 cups cabbage, shredded
2 scallions, finely chopped (both white & green parts)
1/2 bunch fresh mint, roughly chopped
1/2 cup roasted cashews, chopped (peanuts can be used)
2 tablespoons agave syrup
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
4 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
1 inch piece ginger, grated
1 clove garlic, minced
salt & pepper
Chop the kale, cabbage, scallions & mint and set aside in a large bowl. In a small bowl add the agave syrup, sesame oil, rice wine vinegar, ginger and garlic and stir. When ready to toss, add the chopped nuts to the large bowl and pour the dressing over the kale cabbage mixture. Thoroughly coat the kale, season with salt & pepper to taste.
Remember when we left the house on Sunrise and we all wrote our memories and put them in a jar and hid them in the rafters of the garage? Your entry was poignant and made me teary eyed – a nice ode to your home and to the memories it contained.
i’ll miss that house too.
I will miss this house, even though it was only my home for 5 months! More importantly, I’ll miss the people I shared it with–you, Tracey, and Zep! See– I didn’t even list Zep first 😉