My childhood home has officially been sold. Many people would think, "Big deal, so what? Everybody moves." But you don't get it. This is the only home I've known for 22 1/2 years. This is the home I grew up in with my mom's gardens- made up of roses, lilacs, vegetables, sunflowers, daffodils, tulips, and thousands of others- that span the entire back yard. The home boasting one of (if not THE) biggest backyards in my entire city. The huge pool. The shed I helped repaint. My first dog buried in the backyard, along with the hamsters and guinea pigs that I just HAD to have. I wasn't ready for this. I feel like my life has just been taken out of my hands and decided for me by someone that really doesn't give a damn about the repercussions. I don't know whether to blame God or my own father. I've been losing faith in God for years now, and pretty much gave up all hope right around my graduation. But my father has committed some of the most desperate acts of betrayal in just the last few months. What can I say, he's good at ruining lives.
I'll be the first to admit, I don't like change. I never have. I have a crisis every time something changes on me. I, with the help of my oh-so-wonderful-brother, ruined my graduation night because of my fear. Same with my high school graduation, minus the brother part and adding the mother and boyfriend into the mix. So I guess this could just be my horrible way of dealing with something every adult has to face eventually. But I really truly believed my parents were going to live in that house forever. There were no signs of anything pointing otherwise until my dad had his stupid crisis.
Not done yet- but unfortunately it's time for work. Which, I will have to give up a couple weeks' pay so I can go home early and help my mom move sooner than expected. Thanks again, Dad!
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