I cried for the first time about leaving this house this weekend. Looking at the rooms, seeing them emptier, it hit me. It isn’t our home anymore. Yes, we still own it and will be listing it this week for new owners, but as our belongings decrease, I realize that the home we knew is behind us.
Writing helps me process things… so here I am, writing to this house. It’s a mixture of a goodbye and a love letter.
Dear House,
Thank you. I cannot thank you enough for the stability and support you’ve given us these past 10 years. When we first moved in, I remember constantly thinking, “I can’t believe I get to live here.” You’ve been a beacon of hope during so many difficult times. I always knew I had you. I’m a homebody, so having a home I loved to be in is crucial.
Even before children entered this home, you were the foundation that Joe and I built our family on. Through adopting Indy and Luna, pregnancies, bringing home babies, losses of loved ones, holidays, a global pandemic, and my onset of chronic illness, you’ve been there. Your light-filled rooms uplifted my heart on so many different occasions. Your sense of calm and comfort has been palpable for anyone who visited.
We worked together to make this a place that I have always been so proud of. You weren’t perfect, and neither were we, but we made something special. Even now, after all this time, I have the same thought again, “I can’t believe I got to live here.”
Now someone new will come in, and you will give them that same foundation and support. They’ll make new memories and improvements we were always too lazy to do. We will move to our next house and make so many new and happy memories. It’s all positive, but it is also sad.
In the grand scheme of things, we are just a blip on your radar, only having 10 of your 100 years so far. But I hope the love and happiness here continue to grow, and we are a bright blip on your timeline.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Love,
Lacey