I’ve been reflecting alot about the move my family made when I was 11 from the city to the suburbs of Boston. It’s something that has really affected me, even to this day, it changed my life in not so positive ways. I still vividly remember the fear I felt as a pre-teen to move from my diverse community to an all white town, where I never felt like i fit in. Since that move I’ve always been searching for a place to belong, and to call home. I look back and remember:
And it was on that night that reality became a mere figment of my imagination. What was real in an instant became but a thing of the past. The cool grass below me tickled my bare arms and legs. I’d been there for hours, watching a circus in the sky. Closing one eye I saw an elephant. Closing the other a flamingo. If only this could exist for always. The circus paraded off and made room for a colorful show. The pinks, the oranges, the purples. All the colors melting into each other liked skilled dancers, like a beautiful disaster.
Closing my eyes, my thoughts focused to the sound of the trees bustling in the wind. My nose met hints of freshly baked brick oven pizza. The wind’s breath sends a cold chill up my spine, reminding me of the darkness that was to follow. Reminding me that I couldn’t stay within the moment forever.
Slowing stretching as I get up from the grass, my mind is heavy. Walking mindlessly to the place I’d called home for 12 years, I knew nothing was ever going to be the same again. Clutching my arms I longed for eternal warmth and security, the same I’d found in my small neighborhood.
My bedroom which was my haven, my escape from the outside world, now was just another room, in just another house. The bags full of clothes and the boxes full of toys and books didn’t comfort me. The room no longer housed joy and laugher. All the life had been sucked out. No more stuffed animals on the bed or secretly crayoned walls. No longer could I find peace in my special corner and pretend my name was Barbie and I had a boyfriend named Ken. My goose-bumped arms couldn’t handle the sadness and sense of loss. Emptiness envelops me, and this house is no longer my home. Glancing in the boxes at my feet I find pictures of me in school musicals, jump rope contests, and track competitions. No more memories, no more happiness. No place could compare to this home I’d lived with my family for years. There is no place like home.