Untangling two lives that have been intertwined for twenty-eight years takes a lot of work. Each step seems impossible, then suddenly it’s behind me, and I’m on to the next step. Soon, I have to sell my house. A part of me is excited by the prospect of new ventures, but sometimes I look at these walls and those stairs and wonder how I’ll ever say goodbye. So many things happened here, both good and bad. So many memories. Some I’ll hold forever in my heart. Others I’d rather forget. It’s a bittersweet parting. It’s time, but it’s also a loss, and no matter what, it’s going to hurt.
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When I was eight years old, my dad picked the lock to the front door of our house. We had accidentally locked ourselves out, and it was the only way to get back inside. I remember watching him slide his license between the door and its frame, wondering how on earth that might help, when the door popped open. Everyone cheered, and we went back inside, and I felt unbelievably grateful to have my house back. My parents are still in that that house to this day. They’ve changed it a lot, but it’s the same house—the house I grew up in.
Now I look at my own children and wonder if they’ll be okay without their childhood home. I never intended to stay in my current house for the rest of my life, but I did intend to raise my kids here. We bought it so that we’d have more space. We stripped the walls ourselves. We renovated every room. The kids helped, scoring thick wallpaper for hours, steaming it, scraping it off the plaster. Their hands are all over this house. How will they feel without it?
I’m not the kind of person who stays in one place for long. I’ve lived in many different places. Some for a summer. Some for a year or three. Some rentals, some owned. Looking back, I count seven different apartments and two houses over five different cities in five different states. I imagine that sounds like a lot of moving to some people, but it felt natural to me. Every few years, I was just ready for something new. There are so many places I’d like to live that I can’t imagine staying anywhere forever. What this has taught me is that where I live is not precious. What matters is how I live.
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