The House That Built Me
It was about 10:30 in the morning when my dad told me he got a second offer on the home I grew up in. A twinge of sadness fluttered through me. This home that my parents had built the way that they wanted it, the home they built for me and my brothers, it's no longer be our home.
We moved into the house on Halloween of 1992. I left it for the first time to venture off to Akron university. I came right back just a year and a half later because depression took over me. I stayed home for a few more years until I decided I didn't want to be there anymore and I took my life out to Nevada. Upon returning to Ohio, my parents home, I was welcomed right back into the room I grew up in. The room I played Barbie's, Lego's, and had sleepovers in. At this point in time, I vowed not to leave unless I knew it was for good. So for a couple years I got to make more memories. I left again in 2012 to move to Tennessee. I never thought that a short 3 years later I'd be right back at the house that built me to help take care of my ailing mother.
Now that I've bought my own home, my brothers no longer live there, it's just my dad and my oldest nephew. With a large home that most rooms sit empty, I don't blame my father for wanting something smaller. I can see why at close to 70, the man doesn't want to do yard work and such. But to say that it doesn't break my heart a little bit to no longer have that place to call my home is an understatement.
The rest of the day I spent thinking of so many random things that my brothers and I grew up doing at the house. That 2 story house that when mom and dad weren't home, I'd crawl out their bathroom window and sit on the roof. The house we played hide and go seek in the dark with our friends at, hiding under pine trees, in the woods (with hobos), and sometimes in plain sight! This was the yard I would take my little CD player outside to and make up dances to Britney Spears songs as a kid. All 3 of us had our graduation parties right there in the garage and drive way. I had my first real kiss in the family room, sitting on the couch... watching Fight Club... We would play restaurant during the summer and make up a small menu to cook and take orders from one another. We slid down the stairs on pillows, played backyard baseball, woke up too early for summertime just to get the sprinkler out and run through it all day while mom and dad were at work. I drew fake roads and parking lots all over the driveway and rode around it on my bike.
All those amazing memories aren't to go without the bad. This house is where I came home to when my brother died. Where I fought too many times with my brothers saying I hated them. Where I got them in trouble for nothing or in more trouble than they deserved. This is where I was broken up with in my 20's that for the first time I truly felt what heartbreak really was. Countless nights silently crying myself to sleep because of a depression I didn't know how to get rid of. Worst of all, the memory of watching my mother fade away in that house.
I clearly take away far more good than bad memories of that house. It is a beautiful home. The structure itself is fantastic, but the people it built inside... well they're still growing and learning, but I like to think that we no longer need that home. That we outgrew it. We're all destined for a home that we can all make new and greater memories in with our own families. While the thought of my dad starting somewhere new is bittersweet, I know that my family is my home and wherever they go, I'm home!
We moved into the house on Halloween of 1992. I left it for the first time to venture off to Akron university. I came right back just a year and a half later because depression took over me. I stayed home for a few more years until I decided I didn't want to be there anymore and I took my life out to Nevada. Upon returning to Ohio, my parents home, I was welcomed right back into the room I grew up in. The room I played Barbie's, Lego's, and had sleepovers in. At this point in time, I vowed not to leave unless I knew it was for good. So for a couple years I got to make more memories. I left again in 2012 to move to Tennessee. I never thought that a short 3 years later I'd be right back at the house that built me to help take care of my ailing mother.
Now that I've bought my own home, my brothers no longer live there, it's just my dad and my oldest nephew. With a large home that most rooms sit empty, I don't blame my father for wanting something smaller. I can see why at close to 70, the man doesn't want to do yard work and such. But to say that it doesn't break my heart a little bit to no longer have that place to call my home is an understatement.
The rest of the day I spent thinking of so many random things that my brothers and I grew up doing at the house. That 2 story house that when mom and dad weren't home, I'd crawl out their bathroom window and sit on the roof. The house we played hide and go seek in the dark with our friends at, hiding under pine trees, in the woods (with hobos), and sometimes in plain sight! This was the yard I would take my little CD player outside to and make up dances to Britney Spears songs as a kid. All 3 of us had our graduation parties right there in the garage and drive way. I had my first real kiss in the family room, sitting on the couch... watching Fight Club... We would play restaurant during the summer and make up a small menu to cook and take orders from one another. We slid down the stairs on pillows, played backyard baseball, woke up too early for summertime just to get the sprinkler out and run through it all day while mom and dad were at work. I drew fake roads and parking lots all over the driveway and rode around it on my bike.
All those amazing memories aren't to go without the bad. This house is where I came home to when my brother died. Where I fought too many times with my brothers saying I hated them. Where I got them in trouble for nothing or in more trouble than they deserved. This is where I was broken up with in my 20's that for the first time I truly felt what heartbreak really was. Countless nights silently crying myself to sleep because of a depression I didn't know how to get rid of. Worst of all, the memory of watching my mother fade away in that house.
I clearly take away far more good than bad memories of that house. It is a beautiful home. The structure itself is fantastic, but the people it built inside... well they're still growing and learning, but I like to think that we no longer need that home. That we outgrew it. We're all destined for a home that we can all make new and greater memories in with our own families. While the thought of my dad starting somewhere new is bittersweet, I know that my family is my home and wherever they go, I'm home!
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