I’m saying goodbye to the house I’ve lived in for almost a decade. It was the first house Thomas and I bought together. I have so many memories in this house. I brought both my boys home to this house. I started this blog in this house. I wrote my first book in this house. I have a decade worth of memories living in the walls of this house. As I walk around from room to room these memories project on the walls like an old-fashioned film. A sequence of moments that I experienced tug at my heart as I walk from room to room. Two rooms, in particular, hold special meaning to me: the kitchen and the nursey/boys’ room.
The room with the most memories is by far the kitchen. It is the hub of our home. We gather around the kitchen island when we entertain, we eat at that island, hell I fold the laundry on the island in the kitchen. As we prepare to leave this home I reflect on so much. I see me dancing around barefoot in my summer maxi dress and singing to Ella Fitzgerald as I prepare dinner. Thomas comes up behind me and spins me around and we dance for a moment. Not every moment was this picture perfect.
In my book, Big Girl Decisions I talk about Thomas and I remodeling this room months after I experienced a miscarriage. During one of the remodel workdays, I was scraping vinyl off the floor, while Thomas was getting set up to do some framing. The sadness of my miscarriage over took me and I fell to the floor sobbing. When he came in and saw me on the floor he ran to my side and held me as I cried. Weeks later, we placed our kitchen island the “hub” of our home in that very spot.
Fast forward to me looking and feel exhausted as I sitting in front of my son getting him to eat his smooched up dinner from a jar. He likes it and then in the next moment is throwing it onto the floor for the dogs to come lick up.
Fast forward again, to the family playing air baseball. Thomas throws the ball to me; I pitch the ball to Liam, who smacks it out to the cabinet field. I morph into the outfielder, catch the ball and throw it to Jaxson, who throws it to Dad.
We play, we cook, entertain, and love in this room. I will forever love the room in which I danced with my husband, fed my babies, and played baseball.
The Nursey/Boys Room
The room with grey walls and a blue argyle print that I painted when I was seven months pregnant will forever hold meaning in my heart. My belly was huge as I wore my grandfather’s old cowboy shirt, dreaming of what my son would be like. I brought my first-born son into this room days old and held him with all the love a mother could give her baby. It was in these four walls that I sang him and his brother to sleep and held them as they have gotten older and experienced nightmares.
It is on the room’s floor where they run to after a bath and curl up in the fetal position with their bath towels covering their skin. “Ssssh. Mom and Dad can’t find us here,” is what they whispered to one another. Then the big bad “parent monster” would come stomping into the room looking for a “bit of boy to eat”.
I claim Miranda Lambert’s the House that Built Me in this situation. I’m gonna leave this home, I’m gonna move on and do the best I can. I am emotional about this house and the memories it holds inside of it. This house that I’m leaving may not have built me per say, but I turned into a mom in it.
In the last few months as we have been preparing for this move I was expressing to my sentiments of this house to a good friend who said, “You take the memories with you.” I reflected on his words as I sat in my office hearing me play the piano and singing all the songs I wrote in this house. Like the memories, I will also take those songs with me. While I am sentimental towards the house and while I’m tearing up typing this post I know that the memories I have lived in this house will live on in my memory forever. I am excited to share these memories with my boys and my grandbabies. I also look forward to the memories we will be making in our new house. This is a new chapter of me and for our family and I am ready to get it started.