Everyone always talks about how the parents feel when their kid moves out of home. What seems to pass unnoticed is how the kid (usually an adult in pretty much every sense of the word) feels about moving out, clearing out rooms and leaving only a trace of themselves.
Having spent the best part of 2 days binning and packing up my room and then carefully arranging them into the back of the world's smallest car whilst trying to maintain some level of visibility through the back windscreen I can tell you it's odd. Now this is not the first time I've moved out so to speak. 4 years ago I packed up and moved out for uni and the whole thing was pretty emotional, but this was still my home. I still had clothes and general stuff and my room was still classed as my room. But now the game has changed. Now I get to be a grown up and move all my stuff out to Derby to start a new job, without even the luxury of an attic cupboard of my stuff left here like my other siblings have. Instead my mum appears hellbent on binning all old uniforms, books and everything else it seems.
Which leaves my room empty, shell-like. What's left of me in this house? Old school reports and exam certificates (for now), a couple of photographs and a couple of fancy dresses and pairs of shoes. And that's it. I feel odd about leaving, sad in some ways, excited to start the next chapter, nervous about having to step up and take responsibility both in the workplace and of my own life.
I'm launching into the great unknown, with only an empty shell to go back to. But hey, at least there's an ensuite guest room waiting for me if I ever decide to go home...
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