Home is where the Heart is
My parents moved out our of childhood home.
There comes a time where you have to bid goodbye — to the places of which you have fond memories, happy or sad. As I recall the last time I said goodbye to my childhood home (which was almost 16 years ago when we moved from one country to another), I can’t help but think if I went through the same emotions I am feeling now.
I felt like I went through the five stages of grief. The denial phase took me a while to get through, as I tried to rationalize why the move isn’t a good idea. Then I felt angry at myself for having gone through the denial phase. I regret not treasuring the memories I have at this place we called home for so long. Throughout the month of June when my family prepared for the move, I felt my time to build more memories at this home closing in on me. The pile of cardboard came, I stacked my belongings into neat 18” by 18” boxes, and I felt like I have no choice but to accept that this is actually happening.
The move was stressful, and daunting. I said goodbye to the stuff animals that I shared a bedroom/ bed with, the books I read in high school (and more that I never laid hands on), the clothes that I had back in school that somehow still fits me, and many other items that carried far more emotional weight than their physical mass. I tried the Marie Kondo method and actually thank some of my stuff for what they have provided physically and emotionally hoping they will serve a better purpose after they have been donated to good will.
My family left a mark here, and we made a lot of mostly happy memories at home. In the kitchen, my mom taught us how to make wontons and countless other delicious food, many with recipes from our popo (Grandma). I also had many of my internet-inspired culinary experiments in the kitchen, of which only a few has gotten the stamp of approval from my dad. The mochis, the Portuguese egg tarts and the Thanksgiving turkey were the rare few.
A photo of our dining room during the staging period. This dining table has been with us since our 2nd home in Hong Kong.
Outside the kitchen, I picked up a few new skills. We learned to play mahjong, pool and snooker. We have lots of fond memories of game night at home that often went late into the night. We always joked that noise would never be an issue as our neighbors would never hear us.
I also got more physically active, which was a first for me. My siblings were always the outdoorsy type and I was always the sick kid at home, but this changed when I was in middle school and I started picking up more sports. I learned how to bike and rollerblade right on our driveway. I also loved playing badminton with dad on the driveway as he prides himself on his badminton skills (He’s good, really).
Then there were the first of the life skills - the first time I pressed on the gas pedal as I drove off with my driving teacher from the driveway, the first gardening chores that were way more physically demanding than I ever thought, the first shoveling-is-fun-until-you-realize-you-have-a-long-ass-driveway moments, and many more life skills that are invaluable to me.
I can keep going with all the things the home reminds me of and the memories I will forever treasure, but more importantly I want to be mindful of the people (and pet) who are also going through these emotions with me. I don’t know if Quincy feels the same about the house as I do, but I bet he misses it. Remember it’s the people who help you build your memories, not just the location or the place. I am glad we’ve all been supportive of each other throughout the move, and thankful that we have more opportunities to create a new home.
Quincy is always lounging where the sun is.