Moving On and Letting Go

Tomorrow my family locks up and says goodbye our house we lived in for seventeen years. For months I was in denial of moving. Moving couldn't possibly change how I felt about my family's situation. I wanted so long for my family to be strong and try to keep our house, but now I realize it was all for the best.
My friends and I now laugh at how ridiculous I was being over the past few months; constantly arguing and screaming at my parents for ruining my life and how I would never see my friends again. Now, I can't be any more pleased. The house we live in now is much nicer than the other one: the toilet flushes the first time, I have a huge basement to hang out with my friends, a bigger bedroom, and most of all, I'm not embarrassed to bring friends over.
I was at my old house last Sunday, cleaning up whatever was left on the floors, in the bedrooms, and putting it in the car. I started crying, because I thought I was still unsure of everything. But, then I realized that it was because of all the memories that were attached to that place. Painful and happy memories. It hurt me to look into the spot where my dog always slept, only to realize he'd never be there again. Happy things like baking cookies with my mom, having sleepovers, etc. made me not want to leave. I went back today to pick up the rest and I was relieved that once I drove away, I didn't have to carry away the bad times. I didn't have to be reminded of them. I drove away with a smile.
I think I was so used to my other home that I was too scared too move. Change frightens me and I tend to over react. The move is the best thing that has happened to me by far this year.
My parents are happier with our monthly payments (hopefully meaning that I'll have more money for school).
Although this situation change has been difficult, it defiantly has been for the best.