Place Based Essay

Creative Non-fiction
Sierra Wegener
October 19, 2014

A house is made of wood and stone but only love can make a

home. The place I called home, for 12 years, is now a place that pours

out sad, old memories. It used to be a place where I felt so safe. Where

can you run when the world seems like its crashing down? You run

home. But what happens when the world that is crashing down

happens at home. Divorce; that is the word, no child wants to hear. It

starts by destroying the family slowly one fight at a time and then by

the end there is no home life.

Going back to sentimental triggers are the worst; they remind

you of the past that you wish you could still have. Just stepping onto

my dads farmland is an emotional trigger for me. Going to my dads

house is so painful- its where I grew up, where my childhood came

together to slowly fall apart. It hurts too much, as the memories begin

to flood back. I dont want to see my dad, thats not the case. The farm

is where all the happy moments from my childhood are. Its where I

moved to when I was 2 years old, where I had my fifth birthday and

received my first GameBoy. Its where my two brothers were brought

to, when they were born. Its where each of us, me and my two

brothers, celebrated countless birthdays, Easters, 4th of Julys,

Christmases, and Thanksgivings. But it is also where my childhood

came crumbling down. The moment I show up on the acreage, my

memories became overflowed with sorrow, regret, and tears come

rushing down my cheeks.

The farm changed through my childhood. When I was little, the

land was so vast. It seemed as if the land and the happiness were

never going to end. But as I grew up, I learned all good things have to

come to an end; nothing is permanent. I played and ran as if I had

forever to do nothing. The imagination never changed in my head. My

brothers and I could be the most majestic ice skaters in the winter with

our snow boots as we played on the melted then frozen over again ice

or we could travel the seven seas in the summer with our playhouse

that was nothing more than a slide, swings, and nails hammered into

plywood.

As time went on, the farm changed into a place for comfort

rather than a playground. As I grew up the playground, changed into a

place where I could go and think, not for imagination purposes but for

an escape from the yelling that was in the house. Some children are

fortunate to be able to run to their classmates but middle school was

not nice to me, as I was bullied throughout Junior High. I was a 12 year

old and it seemed I was far beyond my maturity level. I could sense

things changing. Change is inevitable; it just happens. I was changing

as I moved from childhood to adolescence but I could sense it. Things

were changing in the family too and not in a good way.

 6th grade. Its the first time where you have more than one

teacher and go to different classrooms for different classes. Thats the

first big change that happens. It was a time of change, where

elementary students transition into Junior High. This is where school

becomes more than learning; its cliques and club. Change was in the

air in all aspects of my life. Thats also when the fights began between

mom and dad. At first they were just little petty fights that I always

shrugged off because everyone fights, at least thats what parents

want the children to think. Then, they began to escalate. The yelling

began to become louder, the silence was longer, and the looks were

snarkier. My dad began to spend more hours away from home; I use to

think it was just because work was becoming busier; it never appeared

to me, my dad was avoiding us. He traveled so he was allowed to

leave the home that caused A LOT of this tension. I filled myself with

anger and jealousy because he could leave and I was just a child so I

had to stay put.

As an adolescent with her life going out of control, I wanted to

just run and keep running. I could stand at the end of the gravel road

with the wind in my hair and think, This wouldnt be so hard to just

run and keep running. I wanted to run- and keep running. The idea of

being able to run somewhere, anywhere, where my problems could be

gone. If I ran, then the world thats crumbling down would be gone.

And, POOF! Just like that, it would just be in my past. I wouldnt have to
deal with the fighting or the drama. I could just run and start over. But

as I look back on this memory I laugh because it was the most

impractical thing a 12 year old could say. There was no way a 6th

grader, like myself, could make it in the busy world with no guardian.

I remember the day that my mom left my dad and took us with

her. I didnt care what was going to happen. I didnt want to believe

any of this was happening. I just couldnt believe my parents would do

this to me. They seemed so selfish back when I couldnt think of

anything else. Now I realize, I was the selfish one. I wanted a picture

perfect family, not one that was destroyed even if we were not happy. I

wanted everything to stay the same; I didnt want anything to change.

The part I hated most, at the time, was moving. I lived in the same

place since I could remember so that hurt me the most. That was the

summer, when my world came crashing down and I blamed everyone,

then I ended up blaming myself for everything that happened.

Now, as I stand back and look at the situation, I realize how

foolish I was. 12 year old me happened to be ignorant and lashed out

on everyone. Coming back to the farm reminds me of all the bad

memories that went along with the divorce, the yelling but worse the

silence. Every time I step back through that door, I have to remind

myself of all the good memories that will forever live in my mind. A

home is not a home unless you feel safe when you return there.