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We missed our home and our friends immensely when we moved out last year. I was sleepless for a period before the move. I was also unprepared at how the move impacted my daughter.
During the last week of our stay in the house, our daughter could not pack her room and was depressed for a period.
She needed us to help her pack her stuff.
On the day that the movers came, she locked herself in the room and did not want to see the movers move our boxes to the new place. She came out only when the house had been emptied.
As parents, it was difficult for us to watch such an emotional spectacle. She felt that the security of the home had been destroyed and removed from her. To her, it was not just a house but a place where she could feel secure and anchored.
Until now, it pains us to pass by the property, recalling pleasant memories which are no longer ours to treasure and enjoy. It was an experience that I did not anticipate when we sold the property. Maybe there were too many pleasant memories that we had brought into the house over the years which we were reluctant to disengage from.
Up to this point in my own life, since birth, I've moved more than 15 times in 4 different countries and 5 cities. It would not be surprising that I kept in touch with no neighbours.
The sense of frustration at having pack and uproot began when the year before my PSLE. At that time, I was given to understand that the aim was to move to an area with good secondary schools. I was all set to throw the tantrum of my life when I watched a character from a Japanese serial 锦秀年华 recounted how he drove his fisherman father to death by throwing a tantrum for fish, while a storm was raging.
During my 2nd year in Uni, another move, this time from a property which was bought, not rented. Until my 2nd year in JC, home was always a rented property. Business was poor ... so the property had to be rented out for the mortgage, not to mention our university education.
I can't complain, but I finally identified that dreadful sense which returned - I cannot lay myself down in bed too comfortably ... don't put my whole weight down ... we're on the road again ...
When I was getting married, my wife went through her things ... looking through some old notes ... old letters ... old photos ... before throwing them ... because I could not provide her with a nest to call her own.
In less than 1 month's time, we will be discarding more things ... perhaps even her wedding gown ... when we install platform storage to make room for our growing children, and in the process, throwing away things which take up space but unlikely to get used again.
We never really thought of her donning that gown again ... but it was after all the product of our costly lessons incurred during wedding preparations, countless subtle fights with the bridal designers and open fights with each other.
It was not our idea to pass the gown to our daughter for her use, but at the back of my mind, I wish I could see Snowylass try it on in the future ... to know she's finally grown up ...
Meanwhile, there's a tux jacket from my JC prom ... which I was still able to don for my wedding ... which I have get ready to say good bye to.
Just praying that my next move, when it comes, when it comes, will be my last.
Change is inevitable...but no less painful. I can identify with your yearning for a settled state...
ReplyDeleteDude, I totally like understand man. It's like the same with me dude. Since like I was born, we've moved like way too many times man. Kuala Kangsar -> KL Old town -> PJ no. 156 -> West Vine St. -> UWM campus quarters -> PJ no. 152 -> PJ ss3 -> Henderson View -> Teban Gardens -> Southside Haig Rd -> Northside Haig Rd -> Bayshore... and counting... and this like don't include my years in Canada man...
ReplyDeleteHave been moving twice . Yes, I will still miss those old days but then when I traveled too often in the past I guess I won't miss my previous place before my present house compare to the first time I moved my house.
ReplyDeleteFor me, the most important thing is I always hope for a good neighbour. I'm glad I found a neigbour with no children. My previous neighbour's 3 kids are hyperactive, so you can imagine they will run round like monkey and make so much noise. Parents are ok but you can hear the mother screaming at the children everyday.
Never had that kind of problem, moved thrice in my life - one from Serangoon to Rangoon and then from Rangoon to Toa Payoh.
ReplyDeleteThey say if you moved 7 times, you will become a Chinese, but then, by default you are already a Chinese, so the curse will not work.
I guess, I will continue to live here until some idiot decides we should have an enbloc... then, I will throw the person off the ten floor of the flat.
let me count.. was in duxton hill since i was born, then moved to chinatown, to tiong bahru. got married, moved to in-laws at telok blangah.., got our very own 2-room rented flat at lengkok bahru, then yay received keys for our very own purchased flat at pasir ris.. too far from my parents house... again moved to where we are staying now. hope this is final... not going to move again unless i am rich enough to buy a landed property... i like the idea of growing my own papaya trees and chilli padi.. bazil for my pastas etc... keep dreaming!
ReplyDeletethou art a rare breed of Singaporean indeed. Not many Singaporeans know what to do with a piece of empty land. They usually end up slabbing the whole garden over in concrete.
ReplyDeleteActually, I do have chillies, tomatoes, pandan leaves, lemon grass and mint leaves growing... at the running track of my school... so tell me when you need them.
ReplyDeleteMint? Hmmm...
ReplyDeleteyes, mint leaves... crunchy mint leaves... good for cooking too...
ReplyDeleteNice. I used to have to buy 'em from Cold Storage in one of those peculiar bottles.
ReplyDeleteA couple of years ago, while on BUDDY training, our trainer Anthony Yeo (the psychologist always interviewed in newspaper on dealing with emotional issues) shared about how kids could be prepared to handle moving blues.
ReplyDeleteAs a kid, whenever I moved, I fantasized about becoming rich beyond dreams, rich enough to buy back all the places I ever lived before ... and restore them to how it was.
One day, for the want of no better excuse than ... actually ... no excuse at all ... I went back to look over at a place I then recently moved out from ...
I don't know what I expected to see ... or do ...
Was I thinking of going through the house as an invisible phantom ... using my own knowledge of the layout ...
Was I thinking of checking whether the new occupants had taken care of the yard which I had spent a fortnight eradicating the mimosas ... including using pliers to pull the stubborn roots out ...
I don't really know ...
All I know was ... looking at it from outside ... I felt something inside me died ...
My offer of storage space still stands. As long as they are nicely packed and can withstand the heat and humidity of Singapore. I should be good for the next couple of years at least, then we can review the situation.
ReplyDelete... no... must..... re..sist... aarrghhh....
ReplyDelete"... home is where the heart is..."
Damn! It's out. Sorry. Couldn't stop myself.
Behind all those rich houses and branded cars are all bank loans. Only if you are cash rich, you don't owe any bank loans for houses, cars, interior deco.... then you are considered rich.
ReplyDeleteoh yes.. mint leaves make great mint tea.. and mint tea is great for tummies, u know...
ReplyDeleteAnd even then, not necessarily happy ...
ReplyDeleteWhat you said triggered memories of my first girlfriend.
When finally, getting to live in an owned property after leaving a nomadic life for more than 20 years, I had to move again to a rental, I was saying to her, "I never had a home."
She, beginning to tear, told me, "No, you have a home, where your family is. Just not a place of your own. I have a house, but not a home."
She was an incredibly smart girl, sweet and kind. Both her parents were doctors, her father a highly sought O&G specialist with his own private practice at Mt. E. Home was supposed to be a 2-storey house with a swimming pool in a prime residential district, next to then a fast-rising politician with his own Gurkha security guard.
But relationship between her parents had long been broken. In a family full of discord, she bore the burden of being the only one on speaking terms with every other member.
I'm sure there're also wealthy families who are happy together, but outsiders can never tell from facades.
Yes. I have come to realise that home is where you make it, and home is where the heart, and love, is. A house is not a home.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, as of yesterday, I no longer have a home. Yes, I had a roof over my head, but that is what it was.