Think about a major milestone that happened with your family this past year. How has this affected you?
This has been a weird year or so for changes. My dad sold the house I grew up in this passed spring. The Yellow House, as everyone called it, is no longer in my family’s possession. Actually, the entire homestead at the corner of Villa Rica and West Sandtown has been sold off–first the majority of the land some years ago, then Granny’s craftsman-style bungalow since she has since been moved into a retirement home upstate to be closer to my aunts. With the sale of the Yellow House, the physical manifestation of my childhood–apart from the handful of artifacts that I still have with me–is gone. It’s hard, and there’s a part of me that really wants to go back and either reclaim or reinvent some of the icons of my childhood and adolescence, but the question remains: to what end?
Do I just start collecting things for the sole purpose of having them? I feel like there’s a control angle there that I need to come to terms with. Like I want to somehow re-obtain these artifacts just so that I can have the ability to dispose of them how I please. I want to just go and buy a house so that I can have one that’s mine (a difficult matter here in southern California), but I know that would only compound superficial problems right now. Instead, I’m working on my future with Barbie. I’m building the life I want to live, and I’ll just start my own homestead.
The worst part, though: I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, and I resent that.