I still remember my first day of Primary school. The journey there appeared to be the most traumatising for me; for my parents, as they practically had to drag me along the street as I screamed, and threw up out of sheer determination not to go. I did, of course and loved it, as we all do…
I’ve been feeling very nostalgic recently after moving out from my home of twenty-one years. I had already left three years ago to go to University, however, my parents have decided to embrace the next chapter in their lives as well so there will no longer be that home that I’ve known and loved, my safety net, that same street where I strained and struggled to get myself out of going to school…
I have never experienced such a grief before in my life. I have lost loved ones before but never would I have believed that there is such a thing as bereavement for a house, an inanimate object. After the initial tear shedding, conjuring up plans of which household item to tie myself to, I began to realise why my parents and I had to go through such a heart wrenching experience. It was to move forward, to move away from habit, from fear, and towards uncertainty which brings excitement and a new lease of life. I’m also not planning to live with my parents forever, but graduating has led me back into their lives again. I felt selfish for being so distraught as it can only mean a much more fruitful future for us all.
My near future involves a call centre job, blogging and continual saving to succeed my life plan which includes the permanent removal from “the nest.” Well, the new “nest.” This time next year, I will have one (notice I’m not saying ‘I would like to have?’ Positivity is the key. Or is it arrogance? I’m never too sure… Maybe that’s where I go wrong…), if not a couple of internships safely tucked away in my Curriculum Vitae and a new lavish pad (maybe remove the “lavish” part, ‘cos that’s a bit unrealistic), a roof over my head in the country’s capital.
It suddenly hit me the other day that this is normally the time that I return to Nottingham to continue my under-graduate studies and drown myself in the student life, drown myself in the prolonging of “real life.” Now, “real life” is all I have to look forward to, or to endure. I can no longer hide myself away from the inevitable.
Secondary school gave me a complex, good GCSE’s and a sheltered view that up to University was as far as I had to plan ‘cos it would see me through for a while and then I wouldn’t have to worry about it. Now, having been on the other side of that thought, panic is surely to ensue. Nothing does last forever, and as much as I would have liked my student life to continue, it couldn’t. It can’t and now I’m left with brainstorming my new and (hopefully) improved life plans. There will be no more eating out of Baked Bean tins, no frequent visits to Dominos and certainly no weekly (3-4) nights out…
All I can do now is concentrate on my next chapter, just like my parents are, and now even my two year old nephew, who is now starting Nursery. Life is constantly rushing us towards the ‘career’ part of our lives; my childhood seems to have flickered past me. It was so easy back then (now I know why my Papa used to say that to me, he does have a point ya know); I wanted to be a vet one week, a fashion designer the next and now its music journalist.
Music journalist… Yeah, I’ll stick with that for now I think.
