The House That Built Me

I love this house and I will miss it.

Today is moving day and I am excited, exhausted, nostalgic and sad.

Walking downstairs this morning, it hit me: last night was my last night here.

No matter how frustrated I have become with this house in the last few months due to its lack of space for Lucas, it's cold, hard slat floors, it's barely large enough to turn around in kitchen and it's distance from good friends and family, we have spent four wonderful years here.

I was proposed to in the dining room.

I became a wife in the backyard.

I saw my parents for the last time in the living room.

I've enjoyed meals prepared by my husband, lots of takeout and countless bowls of cereal from the bar in the kitchen.

I've walked hundreds of miles on the treadmill in the office.

With my husband by my side, I have cried myself to sleep out of immeasurable grief within the safety and comfort of our bedroom.

We became parents in this house as we paced the floors comforting, soothing and getting to know our newborn.

We turned the upstairs guest room into a nursery and have read, sang and fed our son in the rocking chair in his room night after night for the past 18 months.

We've watched hours of mindless television catching up and trying to decompress from our busy days in our family room.

We've played "choo choo" and cars in every. single. room.

We have walked to and from the mailbox in hopes of running onto our neighbor's cat, or better yet, one of our great neighbors.

We've hollered at one another at the top or bottom of the stairs, tripped on items that needed to go one way or the other and met each other halfway.

We've entertained family, celebrated birthdays and made new friends on our patio and watched a beautiful olive tree grow and bloom in the side yard.

I will carry with me all the warm memories this home has provided and hope that it's new residents will treat it well.

I love this house and I will miss it.

Here's to the next chapter...

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