The end of an era

My parents moved to a new house in a new town this week. They have lived in the old house since August 1984, when I was twelve. Moving from a house after more than twenty years is hard for most people. My parents are no exception, and as I had expected they talked a lot about how strange it would be suddenly to live in a new house .

But what I was really curious about was my own feelings. What would I feel when the house that I lived in for ten years would be emptied and sold to another family?
While the movers were carrying the furniture and the cardboard boxes through the front door to the orange truck on the street outside, I walked through the house several times looking at the empty floors and walls. I then realized that I did not really feel anything. The house did not mean anything to me anymore. Had it ever? The house was a shell that used to contain something, that means a lot to me, but that something - my parents - were moving. The house were nothing more than a used set from a movie or a show I used to have a part in.