I moved house this weekend. Exactly six weeks after my "chat" with my father. So far I am ambivalent about it - he clearly regrets that it happened this way but at the same time thinks it is about time that I spread my wings. I think I feel the same way.
In truth, I feel like a plant that has been uprooted and replanted. This is the first time that I have really left home with no plans to go back, and as I retrieved my belongings from around the house I swear I heard those roots rip.
