Saturday, September 8, 2012

Temporary Home

For a whole year I called this my home. Mine. But now, as I find myself surrounded by the emptiness of these four walls, overshadowed by these overpacked luggages, I realise that it was never mine to begin with. Yes, I may have tried to make it look like it's mine, but when push came to shove, when every little thing was packed or carefully thrown away, that 'mine' became nothing but a distant memory. My home, this room, is now just a vacant space ready for the next oversensitive tenant to turn it into a temporary home.

However, even though it's no longer mine, in my heart, in my emotionally-attached heart, it will always be a little bit mine. Just because something is no longer within your reach doesn't mean it's no longer yours. Moving on without the engraved beautiful memories is like eating a new flavour of ice cream in the rain. You do it because you enjoy doing it, maybe even because you want to, but it would mean nothing if you constantly complain about the dreadful weather without appreciating the unfamiliar watering taste in your mouth.

And the truth is, as scared as we are of change and moving ons, what we sometimes fail to realise is that life has a habit of opening up doors we never even thought existed. So today, as I take one last good look around this room, as I close the door of my temporary home, somewhere deep down I know that even though this door is closing for good, another one, which may not even exist yet, will open up eventually. After all, things always happen as they should.

And as they should we should let them happen.

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