Querencia Final

I come to my secure home of querencia, driving through many yellow speed bumps through an old and quiet neighborhood along a park, and there was a line of single family town houses, in which one of them was what I called my home. With an outer light-brown colored coat of paint with its glossy pane windows, and inner contents, contained an amount of space that was perfect for me to spend my time doing activities with my family and with myself.

Entering through its squeaking door, I take off my shoes, and place them onto the shoe rack displayed by the door. My feet were now against the cold and smooth tile flooring. I enter the family/living room that contained an overwhelming amount of toys, stuffed animals, and coloring books all over the carpeted floor, and struggle to find a way to the kitchen, where my mom and dad was cooking dinner. As my mom and dad cross each other, making their way to their different stations in the kitchen, I then help them out and set up the table in the dining room, as usual, bestowing four plates with utensils on the table. I go up the hardwood stairs after I was done, up to my shared room with my older sister. In there, I stay with her for a few moments until dinner was ready to eat. I see her gazing onto various photo albums with a short smile on her face when I glance towards her way.

“What are you doing?” I question. I was wondering why she was looking into all these photos so randomly.

“Looking at these pictures, and thinking back about our memories,” she answers back to me. I also look back at numerous memories and think about some of the things I have done over the past years. I giggle a little just like how my sister had a short smile on her face because of what I think about—the fun and weird things I have done. “I am looking over these pictures because we are moving soon to a new house, and I just want to review over the memories that we had from this house.”

“Yeah, that is probably a good idea.” I stated. Everything happened in this house. I learned everything from a baby to a toddler here—how to use the toilet properly, discipline, even responsibility for a young girl. I learned about myself and who I was while in this home. I did not want my memories to go away.

At that moment, I start thinking about memories that took place in my true home. I visualize the times of fun with my sister when we would both play with a bouncy ball, throwing and catching it to each other while one of us was on the top of the stairs, and the other was o the bottom of the stairs. I also imagine the times when my sister and I would color and draw together, play “tea party” with each other, jump on the beds together, and play many games together. In addition, remembering the times when my sister would teach and tell me different things that I did not know before ran through my head. Flashbacks like these could not go away, knowing that the house I was first growing up in was not going to be my house anymore—it will not be my home, it would just be my memory. Thoughts run through my toddler brain, and I realize that all I have spent my time doing things and learning things have made me feel a lot more secure about me. It has made me know the certain things I know today. It helped create the person who I am today.