Tomorrow is Friday, but it’s not just any Friday; it’s the start of our last weekend in this home.
This is where we raised our three children, the center of our world for the last twenty-plus years.
Now, it’s another family’s turn to make new memories in a place we’ve cherished.
They’re in good hands.
The dogs barked at the window early this morning.
With a cup of coffee, I walked over to see what all the fuss was about.
Two large deer stood just beyond the glass, curious about the ruckus.
I haven’t seen deer here in quite some time, and I couldn’t help but think they were saying goodbye.
I pressed my hand against the window in silent thanks for nature’s gift, a tear slipping from my eye.
Two dogs. One snake. One hermit crab. One praying mantis.
Several fish.
Countless ice cream cones eaten on the large boulders in the backyard.
Dinners on the deck, and fires with friends underneath it.
A small boy running to his mother, a skink tail wiggling in his fingers, crying, thinking he had torn it from the lizard he’d caught.
Crouching down, hugging him, explaining that the lizard dropped its tail to escape.
Tears over the praying mantis, questioning whether it was silly to mourn him.
Mom telling her son to return him to nature—to honor the life of one of Earth’s beautiful creatures.
A teenage boy walking into the woods with the insect in his hand, quietly laying it on a leaf, and returning it to the earth.
A toddler playing a toy guitar on Christmas Day.
A teenager producing music in his bedroom.
First days of kindergarten. Birthday parties. Graduations.
My three sons on the couch, cuddled into each other, watching movies.
Snacks at the worn kitchen table.
So many dinners with friends.
Homework frustrations. Volunteering. Teacher conferences.
Many chocolate chip cookies baked.
Converting the basement into a robotics competition maker space.
Covid Christmas.
Purchasing giant inflatable Minions and placing them throughout the lawn.
A mom and her son, two doors down, clapping their hands with joy.
Learning that the little moments are the most meaningful during hard times.
Learning who people truly were—how much, or how little, they cared for others.
Setting boundaries.
Seeing my own family through.
A unique wooded yard. A unique home.
A life full of love and happiness.
There were ups and downs, laughter and tears, and sometimes life was hard—
But we went through it all together, within the shelter and arms of our home.
And now, we say goodbye.
I’m not sure why it’s so hard to leave the family home, as if one is betraying the memories made there.
But a shrine to what was is not healthy.
You can’t hang on to any phase of your life forever.
And so, we make space for new experiences.
A new home.
We make room for growth.
So, thank you, my dear sweet home.
I hope you warmly hug and protect your new family, just as you did ours.
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