Oatmeal, Minced Beef and Butter

No, it is not a post about food recipes. {sorry to disappoint you, my non-existent reader}...

Just this morning I had a revolution on how to cook savory oatmeal as one of the few new things that I welcome in my life, other than, a new house and hair color. Today's marked as the first month of living in a new house with a completely different layout and environment. I don't know why I'm making such a big deal about it, but I did cry myself to sleep every day a week before moving out of my old house, my childhood home. I spent almost all my life at the said shelter and it holds many memories of beloved deceased family members, that I realized, once the house deconstructs by the new owner, the moments will be buried for good in the ground. Maybe, God, Himself wanted to slap me in the face for my confusing act. For months, even years, I will pray for a new better life, for a chance to start over for my family and me. Nevertheless, when the days come, I cry because deep down it still heavy for me to let it go, no matter how many times I tell myself that 'it is not that big of a deal you lump of ungrateful bitch.'

After having a little meltdown moment, and talked it out with my boyfriend, who has been moved to a different 3 or 4 houses because of his father's work, I realize that changes are inevitable. Heraclitus, an Ancient Greek philosopher wrote in his book, The Cosmic Fragments: "The meaning of the river flowing is not that all things are changing so that we cannot encounter them twice, but that some things stay the same only by changing". 

We humans, stay living only by changing. It is just human nature to be able to move on, don't you think? We move on from high school and adolescent life once we enter university, we move on from rent-free life once we decide to live on our own, a girl moves out from her parent's house once she is married, the brokenhearted one who finally moved on from their exes, we move from one job to another if we got fired or wanted a new experience, we move out from our childhood house, so on and so forth. So the fact that all this sorrow I felt was needed in order of living life, to experiencing changes, made me so thankful that God didn't slap me on the face just yet.

Every other morning, when I find myself trying another new way to cook oatmeal, I will remind her that maybe to encounter her childhood and the corner of old grandmother's bedroom only in memories is the best preservation way that is.