This is one of my journal entries that I wrote a few months ago while visiting my grandparents. My parent's had been split up less than a month, I think. So, I'm just catching you up. I posted this a while ago on my other blog, So Write.
August 2nd, 2011 Current Age--13
Home.
Some people don't realize how strong this word is. I sometimes say, "I've got to go home," when I am actually referring to the house in which I live in. Just because it is my house, doesn't make it my home. In my family, things are occurring, that will make me and my siblings have two houses. For me, neither of them will completely my home.
I have lived in many houses. Lots of them were completely 'Home'. In fact, all of them, except for the two most recent houses have been 'home'.
For a year, I lived in a house that my family was renting. We shared the house with my mom's parents, which was nice. Oliver, my brother, and I shared a room. It was okay that we were sharing. I had always had a bedroom buddy, so I didn't know that I was missing out. It was a good house to live in, but we all knew it wouldn't be home.
Now I'm living in a house with my own bedroom. I've decorated it to my liking, and I have plenty of space to spread out. It is the first house I've ever lived in, where I had my own bedroom. The house is nice. Pretty big, and a nice yard, but something about it just hasn't been quite 'home'. And now, with the arrangement between my parents, it will only be one of mine.
When I think 'home', I think about the house that my dad grew up in. A cozy little place in Centralia. My Grandma, and Grandpa are still living in it, and we go to visit them from time to time.
A few days ago, Oliver and I decided we wanted to stay with them for a week. We were both excited until my mom drove away.
I've never been homesick before. Even when I was a really little kid, I never missed my family.
But as soon as my mom got in the car and started to drive back, I regretted coming. It was wonderful to see my grandparents, but I just wanted to be with my family.
For the rest of the day, I would hover around the bathroom, convincing myself not to cry. Something about being back in that house, was bringing out all of my unspoken emotions. I wanted to be in MY house. In MY town. Being there made me realize, that there can be more that one 'home'. This house was my home. And Chelan, was my home.
Just when I thought I had overcome my homesickness, I went to the living room and lay down on the couch. And too late, I realized my mistake. This couch was a hide-a-bed, and whenever my family was visiting, this was where my parents slept. As soon as I lay down on the couch, all of my feelings came flooding to me.
Tears were running down my cheeks, and I couldn't stop them, though I tried. I think I was so homesick because of everything that's been going on with my family. Laying in the same place my parents did so many times, was like having them present, when they were together.
This house was reminding me of all the old times that we probably won't see again. When all together, the five of us, were a Home, no matter where we were.
I know it sounds corny, but this is Life, As Written by a Nobody.
Home.
Some people don't realize how strong this word is. I sometimes say, "I've got to go home," when I am actually referring to the house in which I live in. Just because it is my house, doesn't make it my home. In my family, things are occurring, that will make me and my siblings have two houses. For me, neither of them will completely my home.
I have lived in many houses. Lots of them were completely 'Home'. In fact, all of them, except for the two most recent houses have been 'home'.
For a year, I lived in a house that my family was renting. We shared the house with my mom's parents, which was nice. Oliver, my brother, and I shared a room. It was okay that we were sharing. I had always had a bedroom buddy, so I didn't know that I was missing out. It was a good house to live in, but we all knew it wouldn't be home.
Now I'm living in a house with my own bedroom. I've decorated it to my liking, and I have plenty of space to spread out. It is the first house I've ever lived in, where I had my own bedroom. The house is nice. Pretty big, and a nice yard, but something about it just hasn't been quite 'home'. And now, with the arrangement between my parents, it will only be one of mine.
When I think 'home', I think about the house that my dad grew up in. A cozy little place in Centralia. My Grandma, and Grandpa are still living in it, and we go to visit them from time to time.
A few days ago, Oliver and I decided we wanted to stay with them for a week. We were both excited until my mom drove away.
I've never been homesick before. Even when I was a really little kid, I never missed my family.
But as soon as my mom got in the car and started to drive back, I regretted coming. It was wonderful to see my grandparents, but I just wanted to be with my family.
For the rest of the day, I would hover around the bathroom, convincing myself not to cry. Something about being back in that house, was bringing out all of my unspoken emotions. I wanted to be in MY house. In MY town. Being there made me realize, that there can be more that one 'home'. This house was my home. And Chelan, was my home.
Just when I thought I had overcome my homesickness, I went to the living room and lay down on the couch. And too late, I realized my mistake. This couch was a hide-a-bed, and whenever my family was visiting, this was where my parents slept. As soon as I lay down on the couch, all of my feelings came flooding to me.
Tears were running down my cheeks, and I couldn't stop them, though I tried. I think I was so homesick because of everything that's been going on with my family. Laying in the same place my parents did so many times, was like having them present, when they were together.
This house was reminding me of all the old times that we probably won't see again. When all together, the five of us, were a Home, no matter where we were.
I know it sounds corny, but this is Life, As Written by a Nobody.
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