This title seems dramatic, and rightly so. I may have mentioned at some point in the interwebs that we were moving, and as of today that date is long come and gone, but I thought it was a necessary post as a prelude to the next post. More of my drama after the break!
So, as most of you may know by now, I have a pretty terrible memory, so I wouldn't have been able to remember the date we had finally moved out if it wasn't for my phone's ability to date the pictures I take. This move didn't really feel real to me, even though I had been in our new house-to-be several times, until I started to disassemble my room, my paradise. I can still vividly remember my first ever post on this blog, now 104 posts behind me, which was an introduction to my growing space in my closet, claiming it as my paradise. All I could think about when taking apart my stand was that, even though I would be having a brand new closet to move in to, I was losing my first paradise. This was the house that I first started growing three little Cattleya on the windowsill, sitting on a tray of rocks and water. This was the room that I first started growing under lights. This was the closet of my great ingenuity. This was the growing space that my first successful pod grew to fertile maturity (more on that on today's second post).
And this is how I had to leave it. One of the things that crushed me the most as I stood there, in a silent, shell of a house, was that I was not going to be able to return to my green paradise ever again. Because our new house was being built by a company, I had no choice in the colour of my room. Had I been given the choice, it would have been as close to the same colour as my parents would allow.
This was a terrible sight for me to see. All of my plants - my life, in a way- packed into four little containers, a precious cargo I would kill in order to protect (which would have been for naught. . . more foreshadowing). I was pretty much the last person packing, and therefore the last person to move my stuff out. I had somehow got busy with something else and was unable to help move nor pack until the last minute.
Just. . . wow. . . this was quite the painful thing to see. . . and the last thing I saw before leaving the house for the last time. Being the over dramatic person that I am, I spent a few minutes just laying down in the middle of my room, thinking of all the memories. It was a tearful moment, but I think I paid my due respects at the closing of Chapter One, allowing me to move on to Chapter Two of my life of growing orchids. Chapter Two and Chapter Three (more foreshadowing) will be talked about in my next post, which I will begin shortly after I post this.
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