Leaving 8.


It’s the end of an era. I got teary-eyed when my mom posted the picture above on her Twitter with the caption “Goodbye”. It’s like leaving my own home. The ancestral home of my mom’s family has been vacated.

I remember the big table in the living room that seats 14 (for all 14 kids). And how lola Aida (our daughter’s namesake) used to buy us pizza, McDonald’s and anything we wanted just with one “whine” from us. We would go swimming at the pool in the back. And when they would drain it, we would get hoses and slide from the shallow end to the deep end (very deep! I always though an octopus or shark would come out from the drain and eat me). I remember the basketball court at the back and how no one ever used it. Or the stories from World War II and Japanese hiding out in the backyard (or were they killed?). Or the basement safe with the skull (I never checked). Or the room upstairs that always felt creepy. The costumes. The creaking 19 wooden steps up to the second floor. The wash-out. The white rock shaped like a horse. The small hill at the front of the house.

In High School the house would be my “excuse” to stay out later than usual with my friends. I would sleep over so I wouldn’t have to explain going home at late hours. It only got worse in College when I would say I would sleep there, but just stay out all night until the sunrise. It was always a good excuse to have. I will miss our halfway house. In between meetings or parties or appointments, we would go there and hang out. Grab a coke. Eat cake. Watch TV. And then just leave for the next meeting, party or appointment.

I will miss seeing all my aunts and uncles chatting, giving opinions and walking around that huge table. All the magazines stacked on the table where you can end up reading for hours. I will miss that place. I have been going there for all of my 37 years. But it is time. Everyone is older. With new families, different houses. And 8 was just getting too big and empty. Not filled with people anymore, just memories.

But the good thing about memories, is you can take them wherever. To the next place. To the next hangout. To the next home. To 45.

Thanks 8. Just like what mom said…. Goodbye. 🙂


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