A Letter To The U-Haul Moving Truck

A Letter To The U-Haul Moving Truck

Home is not a place, it's a feeling.
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Home (noun) a place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. Notice how the Oxford Dictionary defines a home as a place that someone lives at permanently. Many people spend their whole childhood and adolescence all the way up until adulthood in the same household whereas other people move from house to house in just a few years. I fall in to the latter group. Twenty years old and three different houses doesn't sound like much on the outside but the effect it has on the inside is considerable.

The move from the Windy City to Saint Louis as an infant was painless, but the move from my childhood home where I grew up to a new home with all new faces was quite the burden. Growing up in my childhood home, I learned a few things about life and how it should be lived. My quiet neighborhood was to be found at the top of a steep hill that I could never manage to ride my bike all the way up without gravity forcing me to fall backward. The winding streets contained homes that were filled with welcoming arms and warm faces. Soon, I had two best friends to run to when my parents told me to do my homework or yelled at me for picking on my brothers. You could always find us running around the neighborhood with all the other kids playing games through the night. I found my home in those streets and in the innocent laughter we shared outside of my little white house stamped with 521. Through all of the adventures that we embarked on, I gained an insight into my life. I learned that happiness comes in tall and short packages with brown hair and Nike tennis shoes that take off running in the rain just for fun. Not only did it bring me happiness, but taught me to fully express myself in all that I do. Whether that was in playing Barbie dress up, finding the biggest hills to sled down, or running to 'the rock' to escape all our family stress. These things may seem small in comparison to lots of other adventures or experiences I've had in my lifetime, but as I look back, I realize that those were the big things. In these friends, I learned that a home is not a place, it’s a feeling.

My joy faded when I learned that I was moving to another part of town and had to leave my friends in the past. Heartbroken and confused, I packed up my room, my house, my life into a U-Haul moving truck and headed for my new home. If you've ever moved, you understand that moving into a new house feels foreign for ages. As the truck drove away, it took everything I ever loved about a home with it. I no longer felt like I had a place that was all mine - a safe haven. I felt alone and longed for the adventures that I once shared with my two best friends. In this third home, I did a lot of growing and maturing which in theory sounds great, but in that time, I lost my excitement for doing things that reminded me of being a child, of being free and vulnerable. I started to close myself off from the world because I had no one to share it with. Through this trying time, I was more than prepared to move away to college. I was used to the feeling of being alone and secluded from the rest of the world and I almost enjoyed it. So I packed up the U-Haul and hit the road to a new town filled with unfamiliar faces.

The first weeks of college were filled with many pros and few cons. Independence! Freedom to do what I wanted when I wanted! Although those aspects were a life changer, something was off. Believe it or not, I was homesick. I wasn’t homesick for those purple walls that collected dust while I was away, I was homesick for the warm embraces and the sweet smell of baking in the late hours of the night. I was homesick for the feeling after I had gotten a huge hug from my mom. I will reiterate my previous statement: home is not a place, it's a feeling.

It was a cold and bleak day in December when I had asked one of my sorority sisters to be my roommate the following year in-house. I did not know her very well but she was always someone who I was completely myself around without condition so I thought 'why not'. She reminded me to live life like a child again just as my two best friends did back in my little white house at the top of the hill. In this case, my happiness came in a small package with blonde hair and a big personality from Kansas City. At home during the summer I knew something was off, I had the same feeling when I went away to school in the fall. Soon enough I found myself packing a bag and driving 240 miles to visit her. I didn't visit just to go to a Royals game, because the Cardinals are better anyway, I visited her because I'm home when she's with me. Home is not a place, it's a feeling.

To the U-Haul moving truck, you have taken me many places including two different states and four different cities. I've had my ups and downs with you packing up my life and dropping me off with lots of unknowns. What I have learned is that the people that are beside me have given me a home when the walls that surrounded me have lacked that feeling.

Cover Image Credit: Zillow

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How To Cope With A Best Friend Breakup


Breaking up with a boyfriend is one thing, but breaking up with your best friend is a whole new level of heartbreak.

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We all know breakups can be tough, but when that breakup happens to be between you and your best friend, things reach a new level of heartbreak. I met my best friend junior year of high school after our Spanish teacher randomly assigned us to be partners; we struggled so much in that class but in the end, we truly became inseparable. When senior year rolled around we were still close as ever; people would often joke that we were sisters because we looked and acted so much alike. We would go on little dates together, go to parties together, and were always the first person we called when something "major happened."

When my best friend's boyfriend of four years cheated on her while we were spring breaking in Europe, it became my duty to make her feel better; I would randomly drop off flowers and little notes to her house, spend countless hours just listening to her cry and vent, and even stopped talking to people associated with her boyfriend so as to show my "support." All of these things were no big deal to me considering I loved this girl like a sister; whatever she needed I was there to give that to her.

Things soon took a sharp turn when we entered not only the same college but the same sorority. While I was struggling with the social aspect of FSU, my best friend soon found new best friends. When I started having major issues with my boyfriend, I would automatically text/call my best friend as she did with me, but instead of support, I got the sense that she was passive and uninterested. Our little dates and goofy inside jokes disappeared and reappeared between her and her new friends, and my comfortableness around her soon turned into insecurity.

Coming to terms with the fact that the girl I knew everything about is now basically a stranger was a hard one to overcome; I didn't want to accept the fact that my best friend decided it was time to find new ones. It's heartbreaking knowing that the special things you shared with a person are now being shared with others, and it's hard to accept the fact that you aren't wanted or needed by the one person you thought would be by your side forever.

Since school has ended I think I have accepted the fact that we're no longer what we used to be. Of course, it still stings when I see social media posts with her new, college friends, but I just have to remind myself that this is part of life and I just have to move on. I will forever cherish the memories I made with her, but it's time to acknowledge that they were made with someone in my past, not with someone in my present.

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