One-thousand-three-hundred-fifty. That’s how many days ago I moved out of my childhood home. How could I pick one memory from the house? Why not all?

I walk up the driveway while my heart sinks as I realize this used to be my place but it’s not anymore. I see the mailbox I would always run to after school when my mom would ask me to get the mail. I turn and look up the street at the house that was like my second home. My best friend’s house, the place where I would spend half my time. There’s a whole new family there also. It just doesn’t feel right. I turn back and I slowly start to walk up my driveway. I get to the end of the driveway up to the walkway to my door. The big pot that’s usually filled with a bunch of beautiful flowers isn’t there anymore. I can smell the air on those days when I would help my mom plant flowers everywhere. The 2 wooden chairs that would always sit right near the front door weren’t there. Instead, there were different chairs there. I walk up to the door and realize it isn’t blue anymore like how we painted it. Before I walk into the front door I decide to walk down to the backyard. The yard where our whole group of friends would run around. The backyard where we had all our block parties. The backyard where I spend hours of my day in. The swings aren’t there anymore. Everything’s gone. It feels so off. I walk back up my yard as I remember all those days when I would run through the freshly cut up grass in my sandals and smell the scent of grass in 80 degree weather. I walked past our garden and tried planting vegetables multiple times. They would always die. I walk up the 3 steps which my little self would always sit on. I get to the door. I take the key out of my pocket and I unlock the door.

I push the door open and walk inside. I step on the hardwood floor. As I walk in, I hear the sound of my footsteps hitting the ground. The smell of the crockpot dinner I would always eat after a long day of being outside with my friends. I keep walking through the house. I open the squeaky door that leads to the office I would always do my arts and crafts in. We had a bird nest chair in there my family and I would always cuddle up on. My parents were sometimes there working and we would go in there and annoy them until they told us to go away. I walk out of the office and into the kitchen. The kitchen I would eat all my snacks in, and help my mom cook. Probably one of my favorite places in the house. I see the dining room table that always seemed so high to get up to but now I’m taller than it and it all just seems so weird. I see the laundry room where I would feed my dog and my cats. Also the place where I would get so mad when my mom would tell me to do my laundry. I walk out into the living room and then I walk right out. I go downstairs into the basement. The place my friends and I would hang out on a cold rainy day. The basement where people we go in and out of when we have block parties. I cleaned that basement probably over 200 times, it was always a mess. I walk upstairs into the kitchen again and I walk towards the front door. Over by the front door are the stairs to go upstairs. I walk up remembering all the times where I would trip and roll down the stairs. When I get to the top I turn right into my bedroom. It was my favorite room ever. All the times I would pretend I was a teacher teaching a class came rolling back to me. I feel the parts on the carpet that are crunchy because of the amount of times I would play with slime and it would go everywhere. The room that my parents came into every night to say goodnight to me. Sitting in this room brought everything back to me. I walk out of the room and feel a brush of air left behind in the room. I go to my parents room which I spent more time in than my own room. I would sleep in my moms bed 85 percent of the time. I see my moms walk in the closet. I would always steal her heels so I could do “Fashion Shows” for her. She always thought it was the funniest thing ever and still talks about it to this day.

I decided it’s time for me to finally leave. I walk down the stairs and out the big door I walked right through 10 minutes ago. Down the path that leads to the driveway, I have a memory of everyone’s bikes just lying on their sides in the grass. My eyes start to water after everything I have remembered. All the memories, the good and the bad. Everyday I wish I could just move all my stuff back in and live there again.