Just a house

But that doesn’t mean I didn’t cry as I packed up some of my things to clear out my room. By cry I mean, I made an extension to the Farmington River…oh well.

I found my boxes of glitter in case I ever needed them (I apparently used old jewelry boxes to hide it…(in case anyone wanted to take my glitter?))…I found my old communion bouquet…my collection of tiny animal figurines (no larger than 1/2 inch each)…my tiny eraser collection (not real erasers, the kind of erasers that come in shapes, DUH)…my Boyd’s bears collection (coming to Boston), my Floppy family (coming to Boston), my collection of SUPER CATHOLIC things (coming to Boston)….yearbooks, communion dress, old running numbers, the wedding book that Maeve and I made, doll clothes, old books, old pictures…

It’s hard to digest the plain fact that you have to move on from the things in your life. I will never again be a full-time student after this semester. I will not have my cute CT house to go back to. I will be an adult with a full-time job and major responsibilities. I won’t be close to all of my running trails that I know down to the tenth of a mile from back in high school. The Governor’s horse guard won’t walk past our front door on Sundays anymore. I won’t sit in our living room on the edge of the fireplace opening my Christmas presents ever again. I won’t be able to walk around my house without a single light on because I know every corner of it so well. The bed I’ve slept in since I can remember is being thrown away.

Actually, that’s about all I can take of writing about this. Generally writing is therapeutic but in this case I think it’s best to be as pragmatic and non-reflective as possible…(clearly that’s going well).

Happy almost New Year everyone….and a “new” year it will be.


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