âââ
Goodbyes hurt.
It hurts to know that the house I once called my home will just be a memory. A beautiful memory. Something that I will cherish for the rest of my life.
This place is a souvenir of so many bittersweet moments of my life. I spent my entire childhood in this house. Right from my first step to the day I learnt my first curse word, till the day everything was wrenched from our clutches, and we could do absolutely nothing about it.
All the Friday nights were spent here, laughing and relaxing, forgetting our problems for a while and just being happy for one night. It was a tradition in my family. Every Friday night, I had to cook dinner and dad was incharge of dessert. Mom just used to supervise and point out our mistakes. We were a happy family.
All that changed when my mom died. No more Friday nights, no more family time because now, our family was incomplete. It made me realize that how a small change can make a big difference. Fridays didn't seem like Fridays anymore. They turned into torturous nights, bringing pain and sorrow with them.
My parents were high school sweethearts, if that's what you want to call them. Mom and dad had me when they were 18. My parents got married when I was a year old. The love they had for each other could be seen in their eyes - they had the kind of love you read about in books. They were happy, almost perfect for each other. So, when mom died, dad was devastated.
He would not even come out of his room. He used to sit in his room all day, staring at mom's pictures, reminiscing about the days they spent together. There were a few days here and there when he would come out of this phase and talk to me. About mom. About us. This back and forth continued for months until he realized that moping around was only hurting him and everyone around him. So, his sister, Aunt Veronica, booked him an appointment to Dr. Andrews, a renowned therapist.
Those therapy sessions helped him a lot. He started getting better and more healthy with each passing day. The sadness, the pain and the misery didn't vanish, but the progress was noticeable. Eventually, we started spending quality time together. We would talk to each other about how our day went by, we would cook for each other, binge watch our favourite shows. It was like Friday nights all over again. But now, without mom.
Even though the therapy sessions helped to a huge extent, the sadness still lingered around us. In abundance. It was like a shield over us, keeping us from moving on. It was difficult to face the truth, letting the harsh reality sink in. So, dad decided that we needed a fresh start.
My dad is a corporate lawyer and his firm just promoted him, so he got transferred to the outskirts of New York City. He thought of this as a sign and took the opportunity immediately.
So now, here we are packing up all of our stuff in boxes so that we can move out.
"Dad?" I call out.
"Yes, honey?" he replies. I think he's in the living room.
I let out a deep sigh, then move out of the kitchen towards the room, all the while bobbing my head to the song that's been stuck in my head from the past half an hour due to the reasons even I don't know. But it's fine. It's a distraction. A distraction that I need at the moment.
I halt in my steps when I notice the stiff posture my dad is in, his shoulder taut, muscles tensed. My eyes fall on the scarf in his hand - mom's favourite scarf. My brain backtracks to the day she bought this scarf, from an old lady on the street, who earned her living through selling these pieces of clothing. That's how selfless mom was, always ready to help anyone. Mom had the habit of pairing this scarf with almost all of her outfits, since she was in love with this particular piece of clothing.
I just stand at the doorway, quietly observing him as he crushes the scarf in his fist, forming a ball before stuffing it in the front pocket of his jeans.
"Dad?" I clear my throat, to get his attention. He turns around, giving me a tense smile, the corners of his eyes squinting as he looks at me.
"I have packed up all of the boxes in the kitchen. So now I'll just go to my room because some of the things might still be unpacked," I tell him, not letting him know about that fact that I witnessed what happened mere seconds ago.
I cannot even imagine how painfully difficult it must be for him to actually leave the house they built from scratch.
"Okay. Take your time. I'm almost finished," he gives me a small smile and gets back to what he was doing before I interrupted him.
I make my way to my room. Walking down the hallway, I glance on the walls to find them clear. Lifeless almost. No paintings, no photo frames. The walls which were once filled with memories are now plain and lonely.
Sighing, I open the door to my room. Since the house my dad bought is well furnished, we decided to sell off all the extra, unnecessary furniture. I stroll inside leisurely, straight to my walk in closet to see boxes lined up by the side wall with labels on them.
Even though almost everything is packed, I find a few things lying casually on the closet floor. Huffing slightly, I get started. It takes almost twenty minutes to re-check all of the boxes, just to make sure that I haven't forgotten anything.
I stand in the center of the room and take one final look. The room is empty now, not the usual messy kind - clothes on the floor, bed sheets rumbled, wrappers everywhere and books opened. Now all I see is boxes, boxes and boxes, filled with all of my belongings.
My life in boxes, folks.
"You done honey?" dad's comforting voice sounds from behind. I turn around to see him leaning against the door frame, looking at me with a look that says, 'I hope you are or else we are not getting out of here anytime soon'. He knows that I get a little overboard with my thoughts and forget about the matter at hand. But not this time. Given the circumstances, I don't have it it me to control my wandering thoughts.
I shrug my shoulders slightly, giving him a smile, "Yeah."
He smiles at me warmly, immediately taking me back to the days when mom was still alive.
My dad is 35 years old. He is the definition of tall, dark and handsome. With his dark brown hair, dusky complexion, blue eyes and 6"2 height, he can charm any woman he wants. Since he had me when he was 18, you can say he's pretty young to be a father of a 17 year old. When a few of my friends met him for the first time, they thought that he was my brother. Yep, he is that good looking. I inherited all my qualities from him, blue eyes, dark wavy brown hair and a height of 6 feet.
Yes boys, not all girls are short.
Dad's voice stops my train of thoughts, "The movers are currently loading the truck with the boxes downstairs. Then they will take all the boxes from here. We'll be leaving in around thirty minutes."
"Okay." I nod, absentmindedly.
"By the way, where the hell is Whiskey? I haven't seen him all day," he questions, looking down the hallway to see any signs of our precious dog.
"He must be in the garden. I'll go get him," I move past him, "Also, no cursing in my house, old man," I call out as soon as I'm at a little distance from him.
"Hey, that's my line," he shouts back, humor lacing his voice, "Without the old man part."
I let out a low laugh at my dad's antics. I walk out of the house and go straight to the back garden. There he is. Sitting near the swimming pool, like always.
"Whis," I yell for him. On hearing his name, he gets up and turns around. As soon as he sees me, he runs towards me, his tail wagging and tongue hanging out from his mouth. Before I can gather what's happening, he tackles me to the ground and starts licking my face, making me giggle, "I missed you too, Whis."
Whis, or Whiskey, is my pet Golden Retriever my parents got me for my 15th birthday. Best gift ever.
"Come on buddy, we have a long journey ahead of us," I make my way inside the house with Whis trailing behind me, like the good boy he is. As soon as we get inside, I find my dad standing in the middle of the hallway, looking lost, a frown etched on his face.
Before I can ask him anything, Whis runs past me excitedly and attacks him with full force, catching him off guard. Dad composes himself and chuckles at Whis, "Woah. Slow down there, Whiskey. I know you love me boy," He runs his hand through Whis' fur lightly. In return, Whis just wags his tail and sits down beside dad's legs and starts chewing on my dad's pants.
"Shall we get going now, Lydia?" His attention is drawn back to me completely now, "The boxes are all loaded in the truck. They'll leave now."
"Sure dad. I just need to get my car keys real quick. Then we can hit the roads," I tell him and retrieve my keys from the key holder. Together we make our way out of the front door. Whis is the first one to run out of the house. He sure is excited to move away. Dad follows behind and locks the door.
My feet have a mind of their own as I stop and stand in the middle of the driveway, taking everything in for the very last time. The place once filled with happiness is just so dull now. Like no one ever lived here.
So lifeless.
"Come on. Let's go. We have to get there before it gets dark," Dad tells me.
I just nod and turn around. Before we move any further, I face him and ask him the question I've been wanting to ask from a very long time now. "Are you sure this is the right thing to do, dad?" What I really wanted to ask was, 'Would mom be okay with this?'
As if sensing the real meaning behind my question, he takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting mine as he answers, "I really don't know honey. But your mom would want us to be happy. And you know that this house holds too many memories for us to live here anymore. It's very difficult," his voice cracks slightly, eyes getting glossy. But he recovers quickly and smiles at me. A smile that doesn't reach his eyes at all.
"I hope we are doing the right thing dad."
"Me too honey, me too," He shakes his head and points in the direction of our cars, "Come on, Whiskey is getting pretty impatient."
He is sitting outside the car, by the passenger seat door and looking at us with expectant eyes. This guy is seriously in love with car rides.
"Yeah. Let's go."
My dad walks towards his car and I stride towards mine, twirling the key around my finger. We decided to go separately because no stranger gets to touch my car. Same goes with my dad. He is obsessed with cars. Sometimes I feel like he loves his car more than he loves me, I swear. Besides, it's just a five hour drive to New York.
I open the door for Whis to jump inside. Laughing at his enthusiasm and cheerfulness, I pat his head affectionately, closing the door and make my way to the driver's side.
Once I'm buckled up, I glance towards my house one last time. Entering the address in the GPS System, I step on the gas and start the car.
Time for new beginnings.
âââ
to all my tall queens out there, wear those heels and stand straight and proud next to men <3
I'm from India. Where are you guys from?