A Little Reminiscing

Hi everyone,

So, in the time between finishing school and going to Singapore, I've been pretty busy with getting the house ready to be put on market and moving back in with my parents.  All of this is giving me a really weird feeling.  I'm excited and nervous to be going on this trip, but I'm also quite sad about leaving and selling the house.  I've lived in it for the past four years and, honestly, despite the spiders, I really love it.  It's a small little wartime house that's actually the perfect size for one to three people.  I can clean the entire house within two hours and it's walking distance from everything I need.  It is small and calm and has some interesting colours.  Whoever had the house before me really liked their earth tones and, for that house, it's great.  If anything, it added to the calmness, that is, if you're one of those who's okay with lime green.  I don't mind it, myself.

Even the neighbourhood is calm and the kids actually go outside and play together.  It's nice seeing them knock on each other's doors to come out to play.  It's not really something you see anymore because many tend to play online together and talk through Skype more now, I find.

Everything about where I was situated for school between my second and fifth years is great.  If you had asked me in my earlier years of university, I never would have admitted it, but secretly, I did enjoy having a place to call my own away from home.  To be on my own has been a great experience and I really wish it's one I could keep at right now, but I just don't have the resources to do that at the moment.  If I really could, though, I think I'd actually keep that little wartime house.  It's done me well.  My dad told me that if I were to stay in the little city, we would look for a better house, but I don't think I'd stand for that.  Not after everything this sweet little house and I have gone through.  Sure, it has its faults, but who and what doesn't?  Besides, it's very...Brantford.  It has a...stitched together sort of feeling.  When you walk through the house, you can see which parts were added on later or modified, maybe even repainted.  Not like the cookie cutter houses you get now that are all perfect and two dimensional.  No.  This house has character.  It has spice.  It has life.  It's seen things that I haven't, that my parents haven't, and who knows?  Maybe it's even seen things that my grandparents haven't.  I guess it's true what they say: If these walls could talk, they would have so much to say.  To hear the stories and experiences from that house and all it's been through would be amazing.

I'm really going to miss it.  The house.  The city.  The people.  Now, I just hope that whoever lives in the house next will love it the same way I did.

À bientôt, Brantford. Je t'aime.
Dusk