Homesick here, homesick at home

This week we (my mom) is finally closing the sale on the old house. I'm going home for the signing of papers and to say goodbye to the house I called home from 4th grade until now.  It's a house that holds a lot of family memories, good memories and as of late, some not-so-good memories too.  I should be more nostalgic and/or sad about the final goodbye, but I think that because there have been so many goodbyes in the last 18 months, I've become numb to change. My plans, my address, my friends, and my perspective have all changed/evolved so drastically that closing another door for the last time doesn't seem so daunting anymore. 

And too, the idea of "home" is pretty fluid, it seems, to most 20-somethings. This reminds me of a scene from Garden State. 


Andrew Largeman: You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone.
Sam: I still feel at home in my house.
Andrew Largeman: You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.

Maybe that's it. I've said it before. I'm homesick here, homesick at home.