The House of Tomorrow
“You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.”Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet
A year has passed, but time has stood still. Untouched and silent with a warm triangle of sunlight, her bedroom remains a shrine. I come here when I want to worship her younger days, her childhood. A goofy face grins at me from a camel frame. She collects camels. Collected, I should say.
Anime and K-pop posters are unsticking from her wall. One at a time, they’re giving up. When will I give up? When will I accept she’s not coming back?
Two visits home since last August. A few forgotten items taken away in overstuffed suitcases. The rest is left behind. Naturally so. There is only so much of our past we can carry into our future and still move forward.
Carefully, I unstick the drooping posters, and one by one, I remove her photos from her bookcase. There goes prom and graduation and the South Korea trip. All the memories are now tucked away in a box, and a blank slate glares at me saying, “What now?”
I don’t know how to answer. I’m a wanderer, a nomad. I’m accustomed to leaving, not to being left behind. I don’t know how to convert “her” space into a guest room. I don’t know how to convert my mother’s heart into a guest heart that only visits her on occasions.
When will the present become the status quo? How much time until now becomes the norm and I stop feeling her absence?
This last visit she announced she has a girlfriend. Usually calm and cautious, she was alive with hope and anticipation. “Once I’m through with college, we’re going to move in together,” she announced.
She’s not coming back.
I finish boxing up her books and trinkets, and I stand back and take it all in: the bare desk and bookcase, the cavernous armoire, the stripped-down twin bed. But in spite of its emptiness, the room is warm and, like her, it seems to be glowing with expectation. It’s looking forward to the future. It’s ready for the next step.
And that’s when I realize: I am too.
Thank you for reading. xoxo
