I went home to Canada this past weekend to visit family, celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving (with a cheese pizza from Toppers, naturally), meet my three week old niece Ellie and to say goodbye to my childhood home. So many emotions packed into less than 48 hours I’m surprised my fragile psyche could handle it all!
Saying goodbye to where I lived for the past 23 years of my life was very difficult. I knew I’d get teary-eyed but I did not expect myself to actually shed tears, wave my hand in front of my eyes and exclaim “I’m getting a little verklempt.” Can you blame me? All of my favourite memories happened there – My first kiss was in the basement, my height at various ages is recorded on the walls, so many pool and family parties were held in the backyard, sleepovers with friends, big family dinners etc. This place is important to me and my family, as my dad keeps saying it’s not just a house it’s where he raised his kids. So while it may be slightly weird that I slowly walked around the house at my departure whispering, “goodbye kitchen….goodbye family room…..goodbye bathroom,” I would have felt incomplete having rushed out the door pretending I didn’t care.
I’ll miss you, Rutledge Street.
In packing up the household my mom gave me some random stuff of mine she had found in my old room. I’ve come across a collection of photographs from my youth that never fails to make me smile. It was in looking at these photographs that I really understood the meaning of “home is where the heart is.” It’s so incredibly corny and very cliché, but also true – the feelings I got from the pictures were not because of where they were taken but rather who I was with and what were doing. I will certainly miss 12 Rutledge Street but I am looking forward to the new memories my family will make when my parent’s brand new, totally ballin’ house is completed in April of 2011.