Friday, December 15, 2006
Of furniture and leaving
When my family moved from England back to California, I was nine years old. We moved out of our house in Ely before school was out for the year, and until we left the country, we stayed in the home of some good friends from church who were out of town. I was already unhappy at being uprooted from my home and friends, and being pulled out of school early was another unhappiness. (Add to that the fact that we left the country on my best friend's birthday.)
But before all of that, before we even moved out of the house on Downham Road, my parents sold my bed. I remember being extremely indignant about this, exclaiming about it to my friends. "They SOLD my BED!" How dare they? I didn't even have somewhere to SLEEP in my last days in my home. It was, for me, the final cruel indicator that we really were leaving.
Well, folks--on Saturday I am selling my bed. The time has come.
But before all of that, before we even moved out of the house on Downham Road, my parents sold my bed. I remember being extremely indignant about this, exclaiming about it to my friends. "They SOLD my BED!" How dare they? I didn't even have somewhere to SLEEP in my last days in my home. It was, for me, the final cruel indicator that we really were leaving.
Well, folks--on Saturday I am selling my bed. The time has come.
| posted by Barbara | 7:50 PM