It was a little blue house on a dead end road.  A little blue house on Lorna Road.  It was my second home, but the home I really knew since we made the move when I was still in elementary school.  

Since I lived in that house up until my sophomore year of high school, I was very well adjusted to the neighborhood; I knew everyone on my street. We had open parties where the neighbors were welcome to join.  The kids at the end of the street came knocking on my door every night when it began to get dark to invite my sisters and I out to play manhunt and hide and go seek tag.  We would use the entire street and all backyards. Everyone was okay with it.  We would spend some summer days bike racing down the steep hill or exploring the woody area at the end of the road, sometimes staying on trail and sometimes heading off.  I was free to walk into my friends’ homes and we just knew how to have a great time.  That was my neighborhood.  That’s what I called home.  Although, I didn’t always like my actual home.  I hated sharing a room with my sister.  It was okay when we were in elementary school, rougher in middle school, and it progressively got worse.  She was messy and I was neat.  I hated cleaning up after her and sharing a dresser, even if it was a big one.  I hated trying to do my homework and having no where else to go but the basement, because my sister had the TV on too loud in the bedroom or living room.  I didn’t like having everything from bedrooms to the livingroom and kitchen all on one floor.  We had one full bathroom, so it was a hassle in the morning sharing among five people.  It was even worse when we had guests staying with us.  I wanted my own room and my own space.  I wanted a bigger house.  The home that was once fit suitable for us, fit  was no longer. well for a growing family now of a teenager and soon to be teen.  So you could Iimagine how glad I was when my mom announced one day after school that she had met with a realtor in search of a new home.  ‘Glad’ is not even the word that encapsulates the whole feeling.

I loved going to the Open Houses, and when we finally were set on our new home, I was satisfied.  3 floors, 5 bedrooms, 2 full baths and one half bath, a big kitchen and dining room, living room, family room, game room, and a huge backyard with a pool and a trampoline.  All on a big, open, quiet road.  I was set and ready to move.  I was the fastest one in my family to pack my bags. 

However, that morning, seeing the U-Haul pull up and load everything in, my feelings started to change.  I was in denial about what I was feeling at first, but then I came to terms with it.  This was sad.  I saw the house getting emptier and emptier.  

The spaces vacant and carpets being torn up.  Piece by piece, things went until everything was out.  As the house keys were being pulled off keychains, I slipped back inside the house.  I recognized the chip in the bathroom floor tile from when the medicine cabinet fell.  I recognized the pink nail polish stain on the hardwood from when my sister dropped the bottle.  I recognized the smell of my dog in a torn up carpet from when he was first learning to be potty trained.  There was the marker on my bedroom door from when my little sister was learning how to write her own name.  And the lines on the doorframe from where my sisters and I tracked our height growth over time.  No matter how dysfunctional it got, this had been  my home for almost a decade of my lifetime.  I got the good and bad parts.  The full package.   As I closed the door behind me for the last time, it began to hit me that I was leaving behind my good friends.  No more regular manhunt with them on long, summer nights.  No more regular pool parties and exploring new parts in the woods.  No more racing bikes down the hill and playing ding dong ditch.  There would be no more.  I said goodbye to everyone on the street, and climbing into the car and on my way to the new house, I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach and felt a little bit choked up.  Sure, wherever my family is is my home, and I am happy to be with them, but sometimes, I catch myself missing that little blue house on Lorna Road.