For the past two weeks, I was back in my hometown in my childhood home helping get things ready for having an estate auction and listing the house for sale. We put the house on the market August 11 and accepted a full price cash offer on August 16. By August 17, everything was done in our "cleaning out the house" process. The auction company will hit the house on August 25 to inventory everything left and get the auction set up. We close on the house on Oct. 9. It's almost all a done deal.
I had been consumed with all the tasks involved in getting to this point, all the while sleeping and living in my childhood home - a home that was built by my parents in 1960. When I pulled away from the house on the morning of August 18, my heart broke a little. A chapter was truly and forever closing...the doors I slammed; the floors I stomped; the bedrooms I slept in; the kitchen we ate and cooked in; the living room we all visited and watched TV in; the garage we helped Daddy in; the lawn we mowed and played on; the clothesline we built tents over; the patio we grilled, made and ate ice cream, and sunbathed on; the windows we watched the world out of; the stories created; the house we loved and that loved us will now become someone else's home. It is as it should be...the house will go on without us, and new stories will be written within its walls.
My husband and I have bought three houses and sold two in our years together. I know that a house is merely a structure in which to live, and that a home is what you create within such a structure. But driving away from the house that was my childhood home made me realize that no house is ever just a structure...every house is full of stories, memories, moments....and the best of those stories, memories, and moments will go with us as we leave a house and move ever forward in our lives journeys.
We all leave home, little ones, but if we're lucky home never leaves us....