spent the holidays packing up and saying goodbye to my childhood home. another thing no one seems to talk about. even though I haven’t fully lived there in ten years, it’s always been the most comforting and consistent place since I was born. it’s *home.* a lifetime of memories live in those walls and it’s a physical and tangible representation of my dad’s life, legacy, and everything he worked so hard for as a young immigrant coming to the united states in his early 20s. as many of that generation are, my dad held onto every little thing. receipts, paperwork, letters, knickknacks. we’ve spent hours ploughing through it all, truly exhausting (physically & mentally). at the same time, we’ve held onto and discovered many beautiful things. I love that objects from this home will be scattered around mine, my sisters, and my moms new home. remnants of our lives. as my nephew said “bye house. I will never see you again, but I’ll remember you in my soul.” ❤️‍🩹 *hot tip* tell/beg your parents to start going through their things and getting rid of stuff they don’t need NOW! I know they won’t listen, mine never did, but it really helps make tough moments like this a tad more gentle later. emotionally blackmail them if you have to. 🥲 more food 🔜 inshallah ✨