If these walls could talk

I've been trying to convince my mom for a while now that it's time for us to move out. Aside from the fact that it's not exactly the safest neighborhood (and I'm a little praning), the house has just gotten too big for me and my parents since my brothers moved out. I think the incident the other night has got my parents seriously considering a move.

I was pretty gung-ho about moving, but the closer we are to actually doing it, the more sentimental I get. My family had the house built over 50 years ago, so there's really an attachment. I love that house. Last night, I had major flashbacks of all the good times and bad that I had there. Some funny, many pleasant, others painful, all vivid. Having family pictures taken right before my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary celebration. Playing "sardines" with Maan and her sisters back in second grade. Dancing Together Forever with a couple of friends during a birthday party. Falling asleep holding my lolo's hand while watching TV. Learning to play "baby mah-jong." Putting together a "newspaper," with such ridiculous stories as the vanishing rambutan from our garden. Ribbon-cutting ceremonies for so-called art exhibits. Dinner with my lola, wondering how she could possibly eat bananas with rice. Burying my dog. Stringing up sampaguita from our garden and hanging them around the statue of Mother Mary in our grotto. Seeing my lola crawl into my lolo's bed, caressing his sheets after he passed away. Hanging out on the roof with our maid's daughter, singing stuff from song hits! Sitting outside on summer evenings after Rep rehearsals, staring at the sky. The renovation. The fights. The separation. Sad Christmases. Happy Christmases. The reconciliation. Graduations. Playing Silent Hill in the dark (for effect) with my old best guy friend. Falling in love for the first time. Getting my heart broken. Finding the love of my life. Growing up. Coming home.

How do you say goodbye to all that?