No Turning Back

Today my parent's sold our house and bought the new one. It's official, no turning back. I came home from work and the walls were bare, and I wanted to cry. We're moving on Saturday. I know it's silly, but I just can't help but mourn the loss of this house. How do you pack up years worth of memories? How do you say goodbye to the room that held all of your secrets, hopes, and fears? How do you not cringe when thinking about the strange person who will take up residence in what used to be your space, your haven? How do you come home to a new house that isn't really home without feeling like a visitor? And I will be a visitor, in all actuality; once I move to Knoxville I'll only come home occasionally, and I'll be sleeping not in my familiar, comfortable, broken-in bedroom, but in a guest room. My stuff will be there, but it won't be mine. That makes me sad, and it makes me long for the days when I could crawl up into my mom's lap and she would stroke my hair and rock me, and time would slow to nothing.