I remember when we first moved to Sacramento, we lived in a one bedroom apartment in the ghettos. The four of us. We had $500 in our pocket, no car, no license and were completely new to the area; not to mention, only 1 year old to the country. But we had nothing to complain about. We took the bus everywhere. I was even made fun of in school, but I paid it no mind. I was happy. No worries. No stress. Maybe it was the age. My innocence hadn't diminished yet. Within a year of staying in our apartment, mom had collected enough money to put down for a house. We started shopping around and mom fell in love with our current house. Back then, it was the 4 of us. Mom and us three. So, Jiji had her own room, mom had the master ofcourse and Arti and I shared a room. I was in high school and I believe Arti was still in elementary if not in middle school. We had one of those bunk beds. The house was huge for us. But slowly and surely, things filled it up. We had gone from having nothing to everything in our home. A home that my mom built with pride. As the years past by, Joshika Jiji got married and moved out. My brother, Ronil, got married too. He moved in with us. Then moved out. My niece was born. She started living with us. My grandma retired and moved in with us. Arti went to school. Moved out and moved back in. By this time ofcourse, we both had our own rooms. But then, grandma wanted her own room, so we gave her Arti's room since Arti was away in school. I still stayed in my room. The one I had initially moved into. Then, Arti moved back and I had decided to move out to Austin. One thing turned into another and I ended up giving up my room since I was moving soon anyway. Well, now I'm not. For the past month, I have been living in the garage as my room. Personally, I love it. Its nice and cool. A lot of privacy. I love privacy. But now, my brother is moving back in. To help mom out financially and be closer to his daughter, my niece, Ashrika. So, he gets the garage, my sister gets her room, mom and Ashrika get the master, grandma gets Arti's old room and I get the couch. No privacy.
I'm not here to complain. I'm actually coming to realization. We started off in a one bedroom apartment. We had no privacy from each other then why am I craving it so much today? Why is this situation worrying me? Why does it feel like I have no room in my own home? I condensed all my stuff from one room to one very small closet. That doesn't worry me at all. But the fact that I don't have my own "place" to go anymore is bothering me so much. Why? Any ideas? Please comment... Thanks.