I think the hardest thing about growing up and moving on is most definitely leaving home. By the time kids are heading to college, most of them are, in fact, ready to leave home and start out on a new adventure. I was not one of those kids.
In all honesty, when I moved out of my house at the start of last month I was extremely nervous. I had lived away from home before, but in a dorm with a meal plan and heat/hot water that I didn't have to pay for. And even though I still go home multiple times a week, mostly due to the fact that I have become a pro food moocher-offer, sometimes I still get nostalgic thinking about my childhood home.
As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in my bedroom in my new place listening to one of the biggest storms of the summer roll out of town. When I was a kid I used to be terrified of thunder storms, now I find them calming (unless I'm driving in them, then not so much.) Whenever it rained my mom would always sit in her chair and read a book, or if my nana was up then you could always find her sitting in our living room, a book on her lap but her face turned toward the window, watching the raindrops fall. It's these kind of little memories that made leaving home hard.
If I wasn't always there, would I miss them all?
