A Moving Post

Posted on June 3, 2015 Updated on June 3, 2015

Finally, the day Mother has been waiting for many months now has finally arrived: moving day. I was kind of waiting for it too, until I found out that we won’t have cable TV and internet on our new house, which is just a short walk away, for three weeks. That means I’ll still be staying in our old house at night. Nevertheless, I’m happy that we have a new house and that we have moved, mostly. But I’m a little bit sad and nostalgic as well.

We moved into our now former house on February 10, 2007. It is where I came home to after long days in college and work. It is where I first brought friends over during my birthday. It is where I first brought a girl – my first girlfriend – home. It is where I came home late at night – or early morning – from happenings I shouldn’t be telling my parents about. And lastly and most importantly, it’s where I began to have a grasp of who I am and who I want to be. Now you can’t blame me for being a bit sappy over our leaving of our once-official not-so-humble abode.

It’s not bragging if it’s true; this house would be a head-turner if it were a woman. European bungalow style, beige stone brick exterior, red roofing, bay windows, double doors on the front, a wide red brick front , seven rooms, and ample garden, floor, and yard space – it’s more than enough to make me feel upper-upper class even though we’re just lower-upper; it’s more than enough to make me not feel the need to move to a better house. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with the new house, it’s just that I’m already content with this old one, and the new one seems like an excess.

As we moved our possessions from this old one to the new one, I rediscovered some of them, which have either become long-forgotten or ignored. Upon laying eyes on them and dusting some of them, the memories linked with them were unearthed. Old toys, Ragnarok Online prepaid cards, father’s typewriter, obsolete devices like components, cassette tapes, and typewriters – save the first, their purpose has been effectively reduced to elicit nostalgia. Mother, the most practical among us, suggests that we get rid of them, but we simply could not. Even us children, who do not and cannot use these outdated tech, went against Mother’s wishes; it’s as if we were protecting our folks’ fond recollections on their behalf from one of them. We clung and continued to cling onto those things as if they were the very memories they represent, as if throwing them would cause us to forget. Thankfully for us and unfortunately for Mother, our thingamabobs were spared, disregarding practicality for sentimentality, which is so us – so me.

I will not retract my previous statement; the new house is an excess. However, I will not deny that it’s also more practical than our old one. It has two stories, more space if you do the math, and it doesn’t have a school that plays pop music on disruptively loud levels for PE class for a neighbor – a total violation of building code. Now we have real neighbors – the ones we used to have in our chilodhood, as our new house is in the same street where our first house is, and completely new ones who replaced our old ones. And the disturbance they make, which is their bickering over parking space, is a lot more appropriate and more entertaining to listen to as compared to Anaconda being played during the PE time of kindergarteners.

The move is almost complete – almost. Aside from the internet and TV cable, my PC, a few guitars of Father’s guitars and his drumset, and a few utilities – electric fans, my PC, a mattress, an AC unit, some food, utensils, our old fridge – remained in the old house. Because these things got left behind, Father stayed to make sure they don’t get stolen, while I to be able to browse the internet or play video games after work. Brother and Sister, on the other hand, go back to our old home to connect and then return to our new home to eat, sleep, and bathe. Father and I, being more attached to the things we have left behind, only move to the new house whenever we need to get something or eat, leaving the old house for an hour at most.

He – and in extension, us – has always been like that, even before we officially moved, as Father had developed a fear of robbers thanks to multiple past experiences with them. It’s the same fear that made him install multiple lock mechanisms, steel gates, and ugly brown spiked fences to protect from robbers the very objects Father is watching over. Soon everything will be moved to the new house, leaving the excessive defenses in our old house purposeless and the same excessive defenses that are also installed in our new house to work – if Father gives them a chance. However, even if we have completely vacated our old home and have had it rented, we won’t be able to leave behind the inconvenience of these hassling security measures, the root behind them – Father’s fears – and our (over)reliance on the internet. I don’t think we want to; these things make home what it is.

We didn’t have to move, but in the end we decided to. Why? Maybe we just don’t know it yet, but the reason is not ours; but Fate’s. This move, which probably is our last, is the last few years of living under one roof, as it’s probably going to be the last house we’re going to live in together, considering that in seven years – the same number of years we spent in our old house – we’d probably have our own lives, our own houses. This old house, on the other hand, is a recently ended chapter. It is where I and my siblings, with nineteen being the youngest became adults. It is where the three of us were shaped into who we are most likely to become in the near-future. It is where all of us grew older, grew apart at times, and grew closer for good. And most importantly, it is where I had many meaningful memories that I will cherish, many painful experiences I have learned from, and unremarkable everydays that I owe my current breathing to with the most important people in my life – my family and our non-blood related visitors. After all, only the most important people in my life can set foot in my home.

Thank you Old House. May your next family give you the same importance, respect, and love as we did. And may they give the same importance, respect, and love to each other as well.