Finally, after over one year and two months, the house that I grew up in was torn down. The house was badly damaged in hurricane Sandy, so much so that my parents haven’t lived in it in since the hurricane. Heck, the last time I was there, there was no first floor. And yes, it took all this time for my parents and the banks to get their affairs in order just to pull it down. I do find it impressive that it was leveled in a day.
I am not really all that upset that it had to be torn down. I mean, I am not happy, but not all that upset about it either. Of course, I have a lot of fond memories of the house, but it is still just a house. The house can be rebuilt, and I still have the memories, I haven’t killed all of my brain cells yet.
I do have this one vivid memory of a nightmare I had. For some reason, I can remember dreaming about the one wall in my bedroom turning into a tunnel that a dragon emerged from. Must have scared the crap out of me as I can still remember it years later.
I can remember watching the Seaside Heights fireworks from my bedroom window. I can remember having a birthday dinner, my dad’s I believe, during a power outage. I remember one of our cats, Cloudy, stepping on some bookshelves which couldn’t hold his weight. Oh, the destruction he caused. I remember my parents adding on to the house, so that my bedroom wasn’t directly attached to my sister’s bedroom. I remember my friends crashing at my place after my graduation parties, looking like dead bodies spread out across the floors.
The house may be gone, but a new one will be built in its place. And I am sure there will be new memories. And hopefully two of the three cat here in Maryland can finally go home.