It’s just a bathtub. It’s just a bathtub. It’s just a bathtub! These are the words I keep repeating in my head as I soak in my enormous Jacuzzi tub. This is my last night in my current house.
I’ve never been one to put much value on material things. It’s only stuff, replaceable. You can’t take it with you, right? I’ve lived in this house for seven years, and in those seven years, I have cried, bled, laughed, danced. There are so many memories all over the emotional spectrum attached to this house. But it’s only a house.
This weekend I have started moving into my new house. There are many positives to think about. This new house has more bedrooms and a bigger yard that is fenced in. This new house is a blank slate of empty walls eager to be filled with new memories, pictures and finger paintings of rainbows and ninja turtles. This new house is all mine.
But, of course, there are many things I will miss. My kitchen, for one. We remodeled this house a couple of years ago, and I got to create my dream kitchen. Now, I’m downgrading to a much smaller one. My walk-in closet is another. A wall of shelves holding a mixture of shoes, old typewriters and many many books. And finally, my tub. I have spent many nights soaking in this tub thinking about my novel or the crap that happened that day. I’ve spent hours sobbing the pain away in this tub. Tonight was my last bath in this tub. And that’s okay. I’ll move on, and I’ll laugh at how attached I was to a bathtub. But the idea of leaving my home to start making a home somewhere else is a little sad.
I’m sad about the circumstances surrounding my move. I’m sad that one part of my life is truly and officially ending while the thought of starting a new life terrifies me. I know I’ll be okay. I know I’ll find the courage to walk through this new territory, and I’ll be proud of myself on the other side of it. But tonight, I need to be a little sad. It’s not always easy closing the door to something that is so familiar and comfortable.