New environment, new faces, new car, new home.
Suddenly, the former turned into a brand new swanky stuff,
overnight or gradually.
We always expect and view the new as positive.
When we moved to a new house, I am happy that we have bigger
space now.
It didn’t really appear to me that I wish for my space those
days but I do now. Perhaps, the familiarity and the common attachment to my
room had me a desire for my space.
Comfort zone, common and common. Comfortable.
Now that we have moved to a new house, I find that I miss
our former home.
Although it was smaller then and a nasty next door we had, I
find fewer things that bothered me than where the new is.
News, conversation and traffic were lesser. Sound proof is
better. Less interference. Less people to dislike. Private. Breeze.
My soul is still
there. I played around the neighbourhood. The house watched me till I moved . I
recalled the tall tree under the evening sun.
The image was pleasant and nostalgic.
There was a short walk nearby to a lake and eateries. I
walked, cycled and drove along the road.
I even made a project of this former residence. Snapping,
writing and pasting about the neighborhood.
People picked me from here. Day and night.
My days, my tears and joy were watched under the moon, sun
and stars when I was here.
I did laundry better here?
Although the house is now occupied by someone new, it had me
there and nothing could cut the bond.
No matter what has transformed in this neighbourhood, it was
once my lovely residence. A truth no one could bend. It is our house of love.
A house which once housed me.
A home.
A dwelling in my past
which shall not be forgotten.
