About 25 years ago, my parents built our house. I've lived in it my whole life. Almost every single night for 25 years, my parents have returned to the same house after doing their chores for the day. It is here where they raised us, and where they invited our relatives for lunch on their free weekends, and well, all that stuff. They've spent almost half their lives here.
And just 2 days ago, we began packing for our trip to the US. We're moving out, just like that. Mom's packing clothes, pots and pans, books, more kitchen stuff, towels, and we're all doing the same. We just began packing TWO DAYS AGO, AND WE'RE LEAVING TODAY! The transition between these 25 years they spent in Guatemala and the next big phase of their lives lasts two days. It's sort of rash.
My parents and all my younger siblings are staying there for good. All of my older siblings are staying here in Guatemala for good. And I, the man in the middle, am perhaps the only one who still has to choose where to live. I'm coming back here on January, but none can tell what'll happen next.
I meant to travel light, so I packed all my clothes in a bag meant as hand baggage, and that's all I'm taking. I'd like to take my PC with me, but I don't want to risk any damage to it. I thought about taking the DDR pads, but I don't think there's gonna be enough space to use it (we'll be 7-8 people living in a basement).
On other news, I sang on the chorus presentation yesterday. Oh, and on Saturday night, I told someone something she would've rather avoided hearing. But what's done is done, and anyway, it feels good not to hide anything from her now. I can only hope she feels the same way.
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