Sunday, April 12, 2009

A House is Not a Home

It was difficult packing our stuff into boxes when my 3-year old daughter would occupy the box even before I have loaded my stuff. So the first things that needed to go from our townhouse were my two daughters. I deported them to my in-laws so my husband and I can concentrate on packing up. The speed with which I was able to put all their clothes in luggage bags and plastic bins was world record. They were out of sight and out of mind in a flash. And that day marked the beginning of the serious cleaning up of the townhouse.

However, two days after not seeing them, my 3-year old started to call the house and asked, "when can I sleep in my house?" and "when can I see you?". It was heart-breaking. So I visited them and started explaining to her that the townhouse was no longer her house and that we were moving. It took quite a couple of such explanation before it dawned on her that indeed she will not be returning to that house to sleep again. The other day, she asked, "Mom, when can I go back to my.... to your house?" I noted the effort with which she changed the "my" to "your" and that made me and my husband decide that it's about time we also sleep with them in my in-laws' place to bring back some semblance of normalcy. This afternoon she no longer asked but made a request which we could not turn down... "Mommy, can I see my house again?" So my husband and I decided to bring the two kids to the townhouse to say goodbye. I think this is an important part of the transition... to look back and say goodbye so one can move on.

As soon as my daughters entered the townhouse, they noted that it no longer was the same house they occupied. I have brought down the picture frames decorating the sala. All the boxes were scattered in the living and dining rooms making it impossible to sit and relax. My 3-year old daughter quickly went up to her room and I followed her. She ran to her bed and flung herself on it and said, "My bed... I miss you." My heart tightened with emotion. But she did not shed a tear. I told her to say goodbye to her bed and to her room. She took her Spongebob pillow and a few other familiar stuff like a hat, a handkerchief, her Cinderella slippers and the Gingerbread man stuff toy. She went to the car embracing all these familiar items. I knew that these will help her feel secure amidst all the uncertainties and changes happening around her. My older daughter commented, "Mommy, she even said goodbye to the windows." I smiled with poignancy. As we left, my 3-year old no longer looked at the house but was busy hugging her stuff toys. I could sense that she now discovered a house is simply a house... it's what and who occupies it that makes it a home. And having these with her brought her back home.

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