Normally, two weeks at the grandparents' house is filled with happy memories, constant hugs, sleeping in and total indulgence.
Although I was the recipient of my share of hugs, love and indulgences over the holidays, this has been a visit back to the Tri-Cities like no other before.
The two weeks were truly draining as I unpacked and repacked boxes, and threw out remnants of the past. Yes, the grandparents are downsizing and moving from their Port Moody home to an apartment in Coquitlam.
It was a little sad and there has been so much upheaval. My grandma is always the optimist but I can feel her stress about moving and I know that more than anything else, she is going to miss her amazing garden, not that she ever complains about anything. Moving to a smaller, one-level place will be easier in the long run but this doesn't make the transition easy now.
Having lived out of the country for eight years, my mom and I had our previous lives stored in a crawl space of the grandparents' house. Unable to be in town for the move because of my school and her job commitments, our chore over Christmas break was a big one. We needed to decide what to keep and what to discard.
It was amusing at times opening up mystery box after mystery box and unearthing the contents, things that were once important in our lives. Yes, there were millions of photographs and trips down memory lane, inspired from celluloid and the interesting contents of boxes. But in all, the process was emotionally and physically exhausting for all.
It is interesting about attachment and different phases of life. It was harder for my mom and grandma to throw away things to which they once were attached. But I am the chuck-out queen and was able to turn numerous boxes of my own stuff into one slim package. To be fair, I was 14 years old when I haphazardly packed those boxes and things you think are important at 14 tend to be quite different from those things you deem to worth saving at 22.
(And so, making this statement, I have just supported my mom's case for not allowing me to get a tattoo at age 14: "Ideas change, aesthetic sensibility changes, you won't be the same person that you were, don't do it!" OK, all right, already. I am glad I didn't get that Spice Up Your Life tattoo on my tush. Thanks, Mom.)
It would be so much easier if time could just stand still. I am feeling this more than ever now as I am about to start my last semester of university. As my grandparents transition to life in their new, smaller place, I contemplate the transition into post-college reality. Oh, the anxiety. I won't be a student anymore, what will that feel like? Can't we just leave everything the way it is? I want to freeze time with my grandparents living in their home and me continuing as a student.
Stretched out in front of me as far as the eye can see are acres of childhood photographs. Yes, that was me, the three-year-old in the pink tutu with the big curls. And, yes, I am the kid in the angel wings in the photos on all those Christmas cards. There are so many shots of running through sprinklers and chasing soap bubbles.
How I long for the simpler times, those carefree days with no responsibilities and no difficult decisions to make about tomorrow, my future.
Naomi Yorke is a Port Coquitlam student who lived in Shanghai, China for four years, writing about her experiences twice a month for The Tri-City News. She now lives in Chicago, where she's attending art school, and continues her column.
