Where is home?

After your folks pass on, where is home? I'm going in a few weeks to get my parent's house ready to sell...including a huge estate sale. This is not going to be easy....I was raised in this house from 2 years old until I left for the last time at 22 years old; with my shorts in a twist, sort of, over issues with my mom. God I wish so much I could go back. So much I wish. I complained about the house; it was too cold in the winter, too hot in the summer, the wall to wall shag was way outdated and my dad's handy work of paneling the entire downstairs was...well, a great work of craftsmanship, but it was paneling with dropped ceilings and florescent lighting, who does that? And now, looking back, I loved that house.

I remember my first real boyfriend, Myron...(yeah Myron....who does that to a kid?) I knew my parents wouldn't like me bringing him to my bedroom but it was really the only place where we could talk without being heard by other ears. My mother, of course, was against it..."bring your boyfriend to your bedroom? You just might as well go down to the orphanage and get you a kid!" But she conceded to let my dad decide. He looked at his watch and said, "Okay...go!" And he proceeded to do mock clock watching.

Now my room was great because it was really all mine. I could paint and decorate it as I wish. The walls were made of some kind of press board which meant there was no issue with sticking tacks in it. I tacked an entire wall of furry material to it. I painted feet up another wall in red. It was my room. I painted a picture of tree at sunset on the wall behind the door. I let my creative go.

There was no heat upstairs except for whatever drifted up the steps. There was a small gas heater in the bathroom that I wasn't allowed to light until I was 15 years old or so.

Recently I've come across old photos of the place...before the shag and the panelling and the drop ceiling...when the floors throughout most of it were hard wood and the wallpaper had faded cardinals and pinkish flowers.

And now I am going home to say good bye to a home I haven't lived in for more than half my life. Having said that, it shouldn't be so hard....should it? But it is...hard to say good bye to something you thought would be there forever.