The Empty Room

I couldn’t believe that it was finally happening. After 28 years, my family and I were moving out of my childhood home.

I sat on the floor of my old bedroom, taking it all in. The big window. The pink carpet and walls. All the empty space. It seemed even bigger than I ever realized. It was weird to think I’d never seen my room like this before.

It was starting to get dark outside. And that was kind of how I felt at the time: in the dark. Everything was so chaotic in the days and weeks leading up to the move, and there was so much uncertainty still ahead. It all felt like too much for me to handle. I was doing my best to believe that this was all for the best. But man, was it rough.

Maybe it was just me being tired and stressed from all the moving. Or maybe it was some deeper fear. Maybe both. But I honestly felt broken in that moment. This move had been hard on me. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. I knew this move would have to happen eventually, but not now. Not this soon. Not before I was back on my feet and ready.

None of this was happening on my terms like I hoped it would. I was completely out of control in this situation, and it scared me.

I always felt like once we didn’t live in this house anymore, I would never have a safe space in the world again. As if no other place on Earth would ever feel like home. Like I’d never have a safe haven to come back to if I ever had another disastrous experience like Boston. Like I’d never feel safe again.

This house was my home all my life. There were so many memories within those walls. A lot of love, and lessons, and a lot of comfort and safety. And now I was being pulled away from all of that.

I’d already lost Nana 6 months prior, and now I was losing my old home. It felt like everything in my previous life was either leaving or dying. I didn’t even recognize my own life anymore.

But as I thought about it more, I wondered: maybe this was what I needed.

Maybe this was me getting a push to move to the next part of my life, to bring me to where I need to be. Maybe I was more stuck before than I realized, and this was getting me unstuck. Maybe this home had finished serving its purpose in my life, and it was time for me to move on.

I always knew I was meant for great things. Maybe this was the first step to me getting there. Thinking about this possibility gave me some relief.

The past several months had been a lot of letting go in a short period of time, and it was overwhelming. But as tired and scared as I was, I did feel lighter, like I could breathe again. Letting go really felt good.

With this realization, suddenly I didn’t feel quite as empty.

As I sat on the floor, I decided to put together a last Instagram post before leaving for good. I chose a good picture of myself, and thought about what the perfect caption would be. Something optimistic, I thought. Something that seemed fitting with moving forward despite uncertainty ahead. And then it hit me.

“There’s a silver lining behind every cloud.”

And with that, I turned to leave for the last time. I gave one final look to my old room, along with a silent thank you for all the years of love and memories, and I went forward a little more hopeful for whatever was to come next.

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