Today, we sell our home. Today it’s no longer “ours” but theirs. We are renting from them until the end of June, but according to the laws and the banks it’s no longer my home once we sign those contracts.
It’s funny how I sort of took for granted this house. It’s little, and we never got around to redoing a lot of the cosmetic dings and dents that were here when we bought the place six years ago; if anything we’ve just added more. But, it’s been home to me for longer than any other space since I moved out of my parents house at 18. Two of my three babies have only known this cramped space.
The family we are today grew in this humble little ranch house and even now, hours before we sign it away, I can’t picture living anywhere else.
The home we are buying in Jersey is over three times the size of our current one. Our kids will have their own room, and no longer will my kids fight over who’s turn it is to use the potty, because the new house has four bathrooms.
My husband loses me in the 1,000 square foot home now; I laugh at the thought of him actually losing me somewhere in the three story suburban mansion we are buying. I will truly have reading corners and nooks to escape to now.
But I can’t really picture it, yet.
So, to the little yellow house we’ve called home for over half a decade, thanks. You’ve been great. I’ll miss your creaky floors and beat up doors and the scary dank corners of the basement that I still haven’t gone near. I’ll miss my flowers and garden and shrubs and the views of the squirrels and birds in the backyard.
I know the family buying you will love you and care for you better than we’ve done, and I wish you well.