Tomorrow we get the keys to our new house. I can’t say home yet…because it won’t be home for a while. Right now, home is still the place we’ve lived for the past 10 years. It’s the place we first came when our oldest son (and only child at the time) was only 18 months old. He’s almost 12 now. A place only becomes home with time, and that’s what we’ve had here. Lots of quickly moving time.
Thankfully, this was our choice. I wasn’t pushed out of my home by a bank, like my parents were when I was little. I wasn’t evacuated because of a heartbreaking storm like so many people have been in recent weeks. We had a door open and, even though we weren’t looking to move, something started to feel right about taking our family to this beautiful, new, more spacious place. It wasn’t terribly hard to say yes. We had, after all, started to feel a bit squished in our 1500 square feet of finished space, with 6 people and a puppy. My grandmother said it first years ago when she first came to our little home: “You are going to need more space.” I insisted she was wrong at the time. Turns out, she was right.
And yet, after this last weekend of putting our home on the market and having people come along, looking to take our place, I’ve had a hard time. I cried several times after groups of people left and I had the quiet house to myself again. The emotion has surprised me. But I can’t help remembering the times we’ve had here.
I think of coming into the home, our first home, for the first time, giddy with excitement for what we were absolutely sure was our forever home. I think of Scott painting the bedroom upstairs blue for Zach’s Christmas present since he had a new baby sister coming to take over the nursery. I think of bringing home our precious newborns–first Ellie, then two years later Addie, then four years later Sam. I think of my kids sipping Otter Pops on the back patio steps or traipsing around in the snow in our beautiful little backyard. I think of family night movie nights by the fire in our family room and bedtime stories snuggled together upstairs. I think of making breakfast by my beautiful stained glass windows and the sun coming through in the morning. I think of my little ones riding their bikes around our circle and taking walks around the block. I think of the friends and neighbors we love here. So many memories. I love this home.
And I hope the family who takes over will love it too. It’s not their home yet, but in time it will be. Thankfully, there is one thing I know about a home–it becomes that way with love, and with family, and with the memories we will create. I look forward to turning our new house into a home, over time. But I will always love this place we’re leaving behind. Thank you, home, for having us these past 10 years. You’ve been a wonderful gift to my family. We’ll miss you immensely.