House arrest

You've got to move on in life. Well, that's a cliched philosophy which all of us know, almost from our mothers' wombs. But you know, it's a funny thing how it feels when you get to see, touch or feel that particular item from your past. Recently we moved residence. We lived in that house for almost 6 years. So, we were pretty close to our neighbors and especially close to the couple right opposite. We hook up every now and then, over weekends, for a drink or two, generally just chatting up. They love Aayu and the li'l one goes all nuts at the mention of their names. We were there last night. As we tiptoed out at about midnight, I saw our old house. 6 years. A whole truck load of memories associated with it. Aayu learned to walk in that house, Aayu did this, did that. There is a memory sticking to every window pane, every brick of that house. And strangely, last night, in the pale street light, an unfamiliar car parked in front, new set of curtains hanging inside the windows, suddenly I felt detached, like I were watching a house I never lived in. I know it's funny, cause even now, when I think of all those cozy moments we three had in the house, or whenever I think of some family activity that brings a smile on my lips, I imagine that house. But when I stood in front of it in person, expecting that magical moment, it never came. It felt strange.