We pack some belongings we have left from our facebook marketplace sale. 

“I can't wait to be done moving”,  I say to my family. 

The dates grew closer and closer, yet the day we move in feels further than ever as I checked my phone on the way to the new house. My mind wanders as I look outside the window of my dad's truck. I'm gonna miss this place. The friends I had over, the friendships that ended, the places I've seen, the amount I have grown in my faith, all in that little room, sometimes feeling like a solitary confinement cell, the walls getting closer, and closer, and closer to me, but sometimes feeling like the only place brought me peace. 

All good things must come to an end. Living in that house came to an end. This day will come to an end. But maybe endings aren’t a bad thing. Soon I will eventually leave for college, and I will have an “end” to living in our new house. As much as I hope I love our new house and cherish my time in it, the idea of home not being a place, it sticks in my mind like gum on a sidewalk. Spending hours upon hours in my new room, our new living room, the kitchen, or wherever I happen to be in the new house; I hope that I can make it feel like home as much as I can.