It was in July, the sun was out and it was very warm walking home from the pool with my best friend, Shana. My mom called and told me to pack what I could, I was really confused. She said we were going home to dad. I thought about my boyfriend Grant and started crying, went to say goodbye to him before leaving Cokato for what I thought was the last time.

I pulled on his black sweatshirt he had given me and cried in Shana’s lap for what seemed like the longest 45 minutes in the world. Billie and Jamie didn't really seem to notice what was happening. Once we got to Minneapolis we dropped Shana off at her house and she said see you tomorrow, knowing she actually would. My dad lived only four blocks away, it takes me three minutes to walk and less than a minute to drive. I remember pulling up to the house and seeing my dad sitting on the steps.

It was still hot and humid but he was wearing what he always does. Jeans, hat on backwards and a black tee shirt, his hair up in a ponytail. I looked at my mom, she was nervous. The girls already walking up to the house; I was not sure what to think. I shoved my flip flops in my bag, pulled Grants hood up and got out carrying as much as I could. I lost it when I got to the front steps and my dad was crying. My father never cries, he is strong and very independent but he was crying so hard. I fell next to him and held him there until my mom finally had the guts to get out and see him. My parents held each other and cried for hours, I was asleep before they came in.

Over the next six weeks we moved our belongings home and settled, I watched my parents come together again. The day before I was supposed to start school in Minneapolis my mom came home from work early. She said pack everything we need to be gone before your dad gets home. I did what she said thinking only of Grant and I being together again. The worst part about this memory is having my dad come home from work and calling me… “Where are you guys? Where is your stuff? Shelby what's going on?” He started crying again...begging us to come home...I felt useless and scared. I didn't know what was going on. I just hung up the phone because I didn't want to listen to my daddy cry anymore. It hurt too much to know my hero hurting.

Things changed after that, my dad could not afford our house anymore. We were going to lose the home I grew up in. I only had a few more times to spend in the house and I wanted to take it all in. I lay on the sidewalk for a long time before actually entering my house. I noticed how the front door was white and the numbers 4046 were grey and lacking much color. The door opened easily to the porch that was cluttered and the only color you actually noticed was the orange and brown carpet. It was bright and welcoming. It leads to another door that opened up into our living room and dining room.

The walls were purple; we had hard wood floors and a black leather sectional couch that had a six bulb lamp behind it. The curtains that hung on the windows were a dark red and we had a very large television that took up most of one wall along with the stereo. The dining room was connected and did not have a door way. The table sat along the wall and so did the bird cage and computer. Otherwise it was an open room. Two doorways without doors were located on the north wall and one on the east. The smaller doorway leads to our kitchen that was about the same size as out bathroom in the hallway. Our basement stairs were in the kitchen. The basement had green carpet and held a pool table and home built bar. We had parties down their often.

The little hallway after the dining room held three doors and a ladder. The first door was my dad’s room, second was our small bathroom and the third door was my sister’s room; I did not pay much attention to how they looked. The ladder was up to the attic. That’s where my room was.

I climbed a ladder to my room; it was large and dimly lit. There were two rooms up there, one that was open and large with a walk in closet. It had white walls and grey carpet; my television and play station were in there along with a black leather chair and a few red bean bags. There was a doorway that I covered with a blanket to my other room. This room had grey carpet too; but the walls were a lot different. The trim near the floor was green, the walls a bright, light blue, and there was the chimney in the middle which my dad had painted a textured brown. He was creative and took sponges and two different greens to make leaves across my ceiling that was slanted on both sides. I felt like I was living in a tree house.

I remember that home vividly, and everything in it. I had a hard time seeing it empty with nothing in it. There was two other times that I have seen it since. The couple that bought the house let me come inside so I could see it twice or so. Once alone and once with my mom; they completely remodeled it. The whole house looks different. They left my tree room though; they planned to make it the room for the baby they were expecting.

Seeing the house I grew up in completely different makes me sad and miss the life I had. Living there for six weeks with both my parents was a great way to say goodbye to it almost. Although the experience was not fun, it was memorable and I would not change that for the world. It is just something I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. Things never stay the same and that is something that I will learn eventually. Everyone moves out of the house they grew up; I just had to in a way that I had a hard time excepting.