Welcome Home

So we finally finished moving house. There’s still a ton of stuff in boxes in the garage and not everything has been set up at the new place yet, but as far as getting things out of the old house is concerned:

(Well, that one was a convenient find …)

And because it’s What You Do, I took one last gander around the house, now empty and vacuum-cleansed. I sat down against a wall I don’t think I’d ever sat down against before and saw the house from an entirely new angle. Tears were starting to well up by the time I made it to my mum’s old bedroom, where I spent a decent amount of my childhood because the bed was massive and made for a rather good rec room.

I lay down on my back the empty, slightly clingy floor, staring up at the ceiling, letting myself take it all in. I took in three things almost immediately: how dark the room was, how full of memories the room was …

And how ready the room was.

And as soon as I felt that, I knew that I had to leave off my drinking up of bittersweet nostalgia for both our sakes – we were done. Our business had been concluded; our time together had reached its end. We were both ready to move on, and I knew that if I didn’t go now – well, I had to. That was that.

Of course there were a few odds and ends left to find transport for, and a foosball table to break up to toss into the skip; but right on cue as we stuffed in the shattered wooden corpse of the already broken novelty, lovingly given to us by my older sister years ago, rain began to fall, and I took this moment to proclaim to everybody present: “Okay, it’s raining – time to go.” And we did so, with little ceremony, because we were all ready for it. Maybe even over-ready. I don’t believe in magic or gods, but I really don’t want to try and explain how the rain came at just the right time, to move us on.

We left our house for the last time, the rain washing us well on our way. I gave it my gimmicky little salute that I always use to commemorate momentous occasions or show profound respect, kind of like a customised, agnostic prayer as we drove up the hill, and we were gone.

When we arrived home – because this is home now, and I’m looking forward to getting used to it – the rain stopped, right on cue again. Obviously the weather had been attending some storytelling workshops.

One stage of our journey is over, and another begins. Now is the time for a new history, a new episode, a new season, a new saga. A new story.

“Welcome home.”

Yeah. I could get used to that.

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