BitterSweet, Part 1

Tonight marks the last night in my childhood home.  I have lived in the house I’m leaving for the better part of my life.  We moved in in 1987-ish when I was 7 or 8 years old.  I’m now 31.  The only time I did not live here in that time is when my ex-husband and I got our own place.  We lived there for seven months until we parted ways and I came back home.  I’m extremely excited about the new digs.  More rooms, screened in porch, fenced in back yard.. my kids will adore it!!  This house has none of that, and is falling apart, but it’s still almost always been home to me.  Two of my three children were brought home from the hospital to here.  First words were spoken, first steps taken.  It was in this house that I knew I was in love for the very first time.  It is the only home that my two year old has ever known.  Even when it wasn’t home, it was still home.  A place I could go no matter what, if I needed that special place to sort things out.  This house has seen secret teen parties, among other things teens should not be doing, birthday parties, anniversaries, holidays and so much more.  As crappy as the house might be, the memories are not.  In some ways, it’s going to suck to say goodbye to it.  I lived here when I started high school, graduated high school, had two of my children, got married.. the list goes on and on.  It’s the first house I shared with my boyfriend of almost three years.

I guess everyone has to move on at some point, but that does not mean it’s going to be easy.  The past four days have been spent packing my life into boxes.  The next three will be spent moving it to another place and moving on to make new memories.  I’ll never let the old ones go, and I know I’ll always have them.  But a small part of me is sad to let go of the place that holds them all locked inside of it’s four walls.

To be continued……


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