The Ties We Leave Behind

“Soon I shall say adieu

to this peaceful place…

So glad to witness

enough full Moon risings

to fill my treasure trove.”

Thus, goes a short verse of mine I wrote shortly before moving to my present abode. I was excited to move and come here. Yet, a feeling of sadness tugged at my heart for I had grown fond of my former neighborhood.

A part of me hated to lose that warm, comfortable feeling of home – one of several homes that have been intricately woven into who I am. A similar stab of pain overwhelmed me years earlier, when I also needed to change residence.

Each place I’ve lived, including my childhood home, has shaped the person that I am.

As the saying goes, “tell me who your friends are and I will tell you who you are.” The same is true with the environments we inhabit. They have a way of influencing our thoughts, actions, and dealings with others.

Each home forms the fabric of my life’s mosaic. My childhood home, most especially, had this special hold on me. For years, even as an adult, the home where I grew up with my parents and siblings would often appear in my dreams. I may long be gone from it, but it endures forever in my heart.

Thus, each time I am compelled to move, a pang of loss stirs my entire being. Like a piece of cloth that is about to be torn because of a loose thread, the pain of leaving behind what I’ve grown attached to rattles my sense of direction. It both tears at me and tugs me back at the same time, creating a tension between letting go and holding on to familiar ground.

What is remarkable in all these is not only the certain change in environment and scenery, but the realization that no place can ever tie me down or hold me.

Just when I’ve grown fond of my neighborhood and the familiar faces of the people within the area, life gently prods me to get up and let go of my comfort zone to start anew in a different setting.

With such nagging tension, I also feel a sense of regret, for not fully appreciating the beauty of where I am at the moment. Only when my stay is about to end – even without my knowing it – do I go out and explore to feel the pulse of the place, and savor its sights, sounds and flavor. It’s something I have always struggled with, assuming that I’ll always be where I am.

Now, I’m on the verge of undertaking this ritual of leaving and moving. The thought alone makes decluttering and packing an overwhelming task. Now, I’m even much older. Thus, the sadness, the sense of saying goodbye to another familiar, beloved place and its people becomes acute.

Yet, I also look forward to new experiences, new adventures, in a new environment. Sometimes, when nostalgia hits, especially now that I am in my early autumn years, I can’t help but think that it must be like saying adieu to life itself and preparing to go back home to my Creator.

Still, I remain positive. Each move is not totally a farewell, for I bring a piece of my former homes and the people I’ve come to know along with me.

My heart will always be filled with gratitude for the ties I leave behind, yet have wrapped me with their special yarns of memories and precious moments.

“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” – E.M. Forster