My Childhood Castle

I have lived next to my childhood home probably 30 of my 56 years. I had relationships moved away, came back home and then left again. It's not much to look at really. A one bedroom little cabin of sorts. Parents on a hideaway bed in living room  and the kids in the bedroom, boys on one side and girls on the other. Until my older brother built an little outside room where the boys finally ended up staying.  Step up to kitchen, claw footed tub.

My parents have both since passed and even they had a draw to this little place, even divorcing, my mother rented the place next to the home , because she couldn't trust my dad to water her plants so for 3 years this was their routine. When we visited, we had to make sure we visited both parents. It was  a bit awkward at times. 

My dad passed away and 5 years later my mother passed as well. We had been living in an apartment but still came over to make sure the house was secure . We noticed the house was still for rent (where my mom live) and we are like why not?  So for the past 15 years I have lived there with my husband.  My family rarely visits me, and not because they don't love me, but they have said seeing the house brings back ugly memories. I guess I can say I am blessed because I remember very little of my childhood. Every morning I wake up and I see the house where I grew up and don't remember.  It's a comfort of sorts. My roots are there, my deepest buried memories.  When I first moved there, I would stand in the yard and feel such emotion, that I would be crying.  When the person who finally bought the property and told my husband that they planned to knock it down, he asked if they could let him know so I would not be around . That huge antenna? We would tease my dad that it was going to knock the house over.

That was about two years ago. Last week, we noticed that they were finally doing the USA's (marking utility lines). I no longer have strong pull to the house like before. Why ?Because two years ago I  allowed myself to dream beyond the dreams I had when I lived here. Knowing that I had a journey to follow and complete my purpose which I was doing, not understand that actually was my purpose.  If I mourn, its for what could have been. It was survival of the fittest, towing the line, its for the family that lived there afraid to show emotion, afraid to fail afraid to show love. Once the house gets knocked down I told my husband, it will truly no longer have any hold on me, we are free to move away if that is what we want to do. I don't have to be gone when it gets knocked down. I've blessed it, I've told it my good byes.  The only thing I will take from it is the little girl with the big eyes, scared and shy, too afraid to move. She is coming with me, to a new placed filled with love and hope. Filled with the future. 

Today I came home for lunch and they had started tearing the castle down, my husband had already told them it was my house, and as I walked closer to the debris, I couldn't hold back the tears. But this time they were tears of relief. Its done , it's over.