I walked up the brick path of our brand new house with a week’s worth of clothes in hand. As I walked up this pre-done path, I stared at the outside of house and the fresh beauty it portrayed. We had been waiting so long to finally have our own house and here it was. Right in front of me.
As I reached for the golden nob in front of me, the pure white door swung open and there stood my 15-year-old brother, Ryan, as anxious as ever. My sister, Ashley, had just got out of the car and was gradually making her way to the porch stairs. We had a plan, my dad, brother, sister, and I. However, my mom had no idea what was about to happen, or that my sister had come home from Maine for the weekend.
As I entered through the front door and walked up the stairs with my bags, my mom quickly embraced me with arms that felt like home. There was always something about the way she hugged you, as if her whole heart was holding you too.
Keeping my mom distracted, my brother walked to the porch doors to let my sister in.
“How are you doing, honey?”
“I’m doing good mom, how are you?”
As she watched my brother make his way back in, there Ashley was, not too far behind. Turning instantly, my mom jumped and grabbed her stomach, tears soon starting to follow. She took small steps before stopping for a short second, then continued in the direction of my sister.
“Ashley?! OMG OMG Aaaasssshhh!”, shocked and crying, she hugged my sister.
The family was home. How surprised she was to think we could all be together so soon. I know some of you may be thinking, “So what? Big deal.” Or “You’re just exaggerating”, but there’s something you’re missing. The effort and love it took to make this happen in less than a day.
In just a day, my dad was able to drive four hours to Maine and back to pick up my sister, then pick me up in Kingston, and bring us both home. All while my mom had been thinking that my dad was simply going through a long day at work. That is the effort. The love. The love was seeing my mom hug us and cry with the idea that we both, because of how opposite my sister and I are, were both standing right there in front of her.
Now a day, these two things are lacked in family and friends. People lose sight of the things and people who were there for them as they were building their own little world. This is where the meaning behind our “new house” comes into play. I mentioned this because it stands for the fight we put up. It took us years to leave where we felt so stuck. Years if bull**** and being overlooked for being good people in a town where friends come before family. Where no matter how much someone gives you, they will stab you in the back. If you give them a home and your trust, they will rob you. All of which did happen to my family, but finally, here we now stand.
Today, we’re living in a house that feels more like home than any home we’ve ever been in. My sister and I are off at school doing what we love, while being able to come home to the ones we love. My brother has a good neighborhood, good friends, and an even better education. Last but not least, my parents. They have fought so hard for us and what is best for us. Now we not only have a place that benefits us all, but now my parents as well. My parents now have a place they can call theirs for the rest of their lives.
My point of this story is this: What comes easy won’t last, and what lasts won’t come easy. Don’t give up just because things don’t go right, right away. Where one door closes, another one opens.
