Bye, house

We're closing on the sale of our Holly Way house tomorrow, and I'm feeling every feeling.

Ready. Elated. Celebratory. Relieved.

Of course we are, after months of getting the house ready to sell followed by months of all the ups-and-downs of having a house on the market. We hoped and worked and prayed then prayed some more that it would sell. We don't want to be landlords anymore. It's time to move on.

Melancholy. Nervous. Sad. Homeless.

These are a little more surprising. Even way back when we were cleaning and painting and fixing, I would get inexplicably emotional. I couldn't quite figure it out. But I wrote years ago how that little house felt like part of the family, it does feel a little like saying goodbye to an old friend. It's our first house, where we brought baby Nellie and baby Annie home, where we learned how to be grown-ups. Since moving out my parents sold their house, and although living in Kevin's family home has been one of the biggest blessings of our lives, we've always felt a little like (unruly) house guests. So we do feel somewhat adrift.

There were times we seriously thought about moving back in, at least temporarily. On one level, it seemed practical. Caring for and paying bills for two houses is stretching us thin. We own a house--if it wasn't going to sell, we could always live there. It's closer to school and work. On another, it seemed like a bit of an adventure. People said we couldn't do it, which just made me want to do it more. We could sell most of our possessions! Embrace minimalism! I mean, living in tiny houses is a thing, so we could survive in 912 square feet.

Kevin suspected some romanticism mixed in, though. He frequently reminded me that we could live in that house, but it wouldn't be the same. We couldn't go back to our old life. We wouldn't have baby Nellie and baby Annie. I wouldn't be an at-home mom, we wouldn't be cruising around in our Suburu. Our old friends wouldn't still be in the neighborhood, and my family wouldn't be what it was.

I know that, of course I do. Yet here I am, waiting for my heart to catch up.

They say home is where the height marks are. They sure have grown, though!

Dinner picnic while we clear out our things