Empty

I walk inside and the ac hits me hard after the broiling day outside. I just want to stay inside and chill all day. But I dont live here anymore. I dont have a bed here or clothes or a toothbrush. There is no food in the fridge. The cabinets are empty. The walls are bare. There is nothing left, no way to prove that we once lived here.

It is so empty. The floor creaks under my feet. It always creaked. But now it just sounds so hollow.

The floor is littered with stuff. Garbage, stuff we don't need or want. Im not sure if I want to go upstairs. It looks so different, so devoid of US. I don't want to cry because well, big girls don't cry. And I keep saying how I dont care, I have no attachment to this place, it means nothing to me. But it means something.

I can see my little brothers on the computer playing games and watching movies. I can see my mama sitting at the kitchen table at 2 am talking to me while drinking her tea. I can see myself making pop corn. My niece scooting across the floor. My brother's wine fridge. I can see my father walking through the door after a long day of work. And my sister coming in with groceries. I can see my mom's friend stopping by to say hi. I see the grape juice stains on the walls from our food fight on pesach. Backyard barbecues.

I see it all. And it means something to me. More than I thought it would.

There is so much dust and I can't stop sneezing. I walk through the house slowly, a little creeped out being there by myself. I know that no one is going to jump out at me and say boo. But it feels weird nevertheless.

I find two boxes of my stuff. Stuff I didn't know existed. There's a booklet of cards my classmates made me when I was 6. A picture of me and my little sister, I look to be around 5. A book I wrote for a book report when I was 10. Poetry I wrote. Everything. It is my memories, my mementos, it is ME.

There is a quilt my grandmother made me when I was born. She sewed my name and birthday onto it. It is as old as me. I don't remember seeing it before. I found my mom's wedding dress. She thought she threw it out.

I call home cuz I am confused. Why was all this left behind? My family is not very organized. They packed and ran. No one realized that all this important stuff was left behind. And yes it is important. It's important to me.

They are busy. No one wants to deal with this right now, on a Friday afternoon hours before shabbos. I hang up, and I stand there, unsure of what to do next.

And then I cry.

Somehow I dial my friend's number, and she picks up in a happy cheery mood. I blubber on the phone and she doesn't understand what I'm saying. So she tells me she's coming over. Cuz that's what friend's do. I wait, I go upstairs, I look around and I feel lost. This is not my house anymore. Now it belongs to someone else.

My friend comes and we spend 2 hours going through my boxes, looking around the basement, trying to figure out who all this stuff belongs to. I am scared that if I don't rescue it now, it'll get thrown out. And no one seems to care.

But it is Friday after all, and I have to go. Shabbos is coming.

I will go back Motzei Shabbos to finish packing whatever I can. But the clock is ticking. Soon, soon we will hand over the key for the final time. And that will be it.

I feel like my childhood is finally over. I moved 4 times with my parents, and now I'm done. Even though I only lived in this house for like 5 years, those were the last 5 years of my childhood, the last time I will have lived at home. I am an adult now, I am on my own.

And as I walk through that door for the last time, I feel like I am saying goodbye to more than just a house. I am saying goodbye to my childhood, to a big chapter of my life.

And I feel so empty inside.