Memories

I’m sitting on my steps because all of our furniture has been packed away or sold.

I’m looking at our living room, the exact location where our son took his first steps.

It’s a weird feeling to think that tomorrow we will be living in a new home.

For four years 1942 Antietam Street was out home. And just like that, it won’t be.

I’m not a nostalgic or sentimental person. I don’t like to hold onto things. But I cannot deny the feeling that this place meant something to me for a short time in my life.

I might even tear up as I lock the door tomorrow. I don’t know. I might be too tired to cry.

But if I happen to feel my emotions well up inside me, I’ll simply remind myself that I’ll always have the memories, and for the foreseeable future, I’ll have the people who made those memories happen.

And together, we’ll make new memories in a new home.

And finally sit on real furniture once again.