Get your move on
Yesterday I told you I spent the day moving my parents into their new condo.
And I was cool with it.
You see, my parents sold my childhood home last month. I was not happy to see that day come. It was the house I grew up in. The house I still said "I am going home" to when I went to see my parents.
We moved in when I was 5 years old and I moved out for the last time when I was 27. Jack and I spent the night there a few weeks before they moved out, so I could have one last weekend in my house.
I am sure the new people are nice. They are a young couple. I hope they raise a family there like my parents did.
Josh didn't understand why I was so upset. The house had been on the market for over a year and I still could not accept they had finally sold it.
My parents are thrilled. My dad won't have a heating bill for a five-bedroom house anymore. My mom gets her first-floor laundry room. They finally have a two-car garage.
But they live in their home now. It's not my home. And that's a little weird.
Hopefully, we can all make some great memories there. But I am still saddened by the idea that Jack will never have a Christmas in my house. He won't sit on the same porch steps or pump his legs on the swing in the backyard or run around on the lawn in circles.
I guess I have come to terms with all that. Can't you tell?
3 Comments:
Hey there, found you through the randomizer...
I still dream about our "family home" even though we moved a million times. It was the favorite home of all us kids and I still can't believe it's not ours even though my parents sold it eighteen years ago.
Not to get too heavy for a first time comment from someone you don't know yet, but at least your parents are still married TO EACH OTHER. That fact will continue to have more of an impact on your holiday happiness than the "where."
What a lovely and sad post.
I'm here via the NaBloPoMo Randomizer. Best of luck with your thirty days of posting.
Oh, I am so crying right now. My parents did that to me about 5 years ago and I still have moments of forgetting that I can't go there anymore. I visit friends in my hometown and can't bring myself to drive past the house I grew up in.
It's wonderful that you took Jack there for a weekend and that you can include him in your memories of that home. I would love to have celebrated a holiday or even a weekend with Ethan in my childhood home.
Sigh...
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