Photographs.
Photographs.
My footsteps echoed around the four walls as I placed the final box of my possessions underneath my new roof. All of my belongings were packed into those boxes waiting to fill this flat and bring life to the whitewash and bare floorboards. I had no idea where to start unpacking.
I sat in between the boxes and began mindlessly rummaging; I wasn’t looking for anything particular, I just needed something to occupy my hands and brain as I tried to ignore the swelling feeling of loneliness inside my heart. 'This was the first time I'd ever be living alone; usually I had friends or family living under the same roof, but this time these four rooms and tiny cupboard belonged to me, and only me. I wished I had someone to experience this strange new city along with me.
After getting through several knick-knacks and discarded items of clothes, I came across a photo album. It was black velvet with silver sequins forming a heart in the centre, and it was completely unfamiliar to me. I opened it slowly and was welcomed by stills of my early childhood.
There were pictures of myself barely an hour old, my mother cradling me in her arms with a proud smile and our gleaming blue eyes were staring directly at the camera. My first Christmas, where I was propped in a highchair with a hat from a cracker falling down over my eyes, and pictures of my first birthday party where a large birthday cake was placed in front of me yet my expression could only be described as confused. I felt my heart swell as my eyes took in the images and I blinked a couple of times to fight away a few stray tears welling up in my eyelids.
As the pages turned, the years went on and I saw myself grow up. My first day of primary school with my hair tied into two plaits, and white knee high socks pulled all the way up my legs. There were several of birthday parties in fun factories and village halls, these pictures were filled with faces I’d forgotten over time but by just looking at these photos, the names were remembered without a single falter.
The faces changed as I entered secondary school, and more boys appeared too. There was a picture of my first day of secondary school with my long chocolate locks falling past my shoulders, and one beside it of my final school day, aged sixteen. My hair had a red tinge to it, and was cut just below the shoulders.
There were pictures of me and my best friends, all at an array of parties, the pre-eighteen celebrations where we’re accompanied by diet coke or lemonade, and ones where there’s a collection of alcoholic beverages placed in front of us. These pictures all focus around the same five girls, but sometimes there’s an extra girl thrown in, or one of the five with a guy hanging off their waist, but it was still me and my best friends.
I gently closed the photo and felt a warm smoothing sensation from all the memories. I was touched that my friends and mother would go to such hassle to comfort me from so far away whilst I was in this strange town, but was amazed none of them had cracked and told me as I was packing the boxes into the back of my car.
I was about to put the photo album into one of the drawers when I noticed something unfamiliar reflecting the light from the box. I reached in and pulled out a photo frame with delicate hearts carved into the edges, and a photograph from my eighteenth birthday party of me, my mum and my four best friends all smiling together was placed in the centre. That was the night I was truly happy, and is was most definitely my favourite memory.
I looked around the empty room at the cheap furniture that came with the place and it still felt lifeless and lonely. The photo frame was still clasped in my hands and I knew instantly that this had to be the first possession of mine to be placed in this apartment. I set the gift onto the shelf and that’s when I realised; home is not a physical place, home can be anywhere because it’s the memories you carry in your heart and mind.
I sat in between the boxes and began mindlessly rummaging; I wasn’t looking for anything particular, I just needed something to occupy my hands and brain as I tried to ignore the swelling feeling of loneliness inside my heart. 'This was the first time I'd ever be living alone; usually I had friends or family living under the same roof, but this time these four rooms and tiny cupboard belonged to me, and only me. I wished I had someone to experience this strange new city along with me.
After getting through several knick-knacks and discarded items of clothes, I came across a photo album. It was black velvet with silver sequins forming a heart in the centre, and it was completely unfamiliar to me. I opened it slowly and was welcomed by stills of my early childhood.
There were pictures of myself barely an hour old, my mother cradling me in her arms with a proud smile and our gleaming blue eyes were staring directly at the camera. My first Christmas, where I was propped in a highchair with a hat from a cracker falling down over my eyes, and pictures of my first birthday party where a large birthday cake was placed in front of me yet my expression could only be described as confused. I felt my heart swell as my eyes took in the images and I blinked a couple of times to fight away a few stray tears welling up in my eyelids.
As the pages turned, the years went on and I saw myself grow up. My first day of primary school with my hair tied into two plaits, and white knee high socks pulled all the way up my legs. There were several of birthday parties in fun factories and village halls, these pictures were filled with faces I’d forgotten over time but by just looking at these photos, the names were remembered without a single falter.
The faces changed as I entered secondary school, and more boys appeared too. There was a picture of my first day of secondary school with my long chocolate locks falling past my shoulders, and one beside it of my final school day, aged sixteen. My hair had a red tinge to it, and was cut just below the shoulders.
There were pictures of me and my best friends, all at an array of parties, the pre-eighteen celebrations where we’re accompanied by diet coke or lemonade, and ones where there’s a collection of alcoholic beverages placed in front of us. These pictures all focus around the same five girls, but sometimes there’s an extra girl thrown in, or one of the five with a guy hanging off their waist, but it was still me and my best friends.
I gently closed the photo and felt a warm smoothing sensation from all the memories. I was touched that my friends and mother would go to such hassle to comfort me from so far away whilst I was in this strange town, but was amazed none of them had cracked and told me as I was packing the boxes into the back of my car.
I was about to put the photo album into one of the drawers when I noticed something unfamiliar reflecting the light from the box. I reached in and pulled out a photo frame with delicate hearts carved into the edges, and a photograph from my eighteenth birthday party of me, my mum and my four best friends all smiling together was placed in the centre. That was the night I was truly happy, and is was most definitely my favourite memory.
I looked around the empty room at the cheap furniture that came with the place and it still felt lifeless and lonely. The photo frame was still clasped in my hands and I knew instantly that this had to be the first possession of mine to be placed in this apartment. I set the gift onto the shelf and that’s when I realised; home is not a physical place, home can be anywhere because it’s the memories you carry in your heart and mind.