It is done. The movers left my home last night about 8:30PM with my life packed away in brown boxes. To be honest, it was a lot tougher than I expected it to be. I think I've been so busy with details, cleaning and getting ready that I had not had any real time to think about what that house meant to me.
(insert sad music here.....think Fix You by Coldplay)
This house was my first real home since I graduated from high school. Sure, I lived in a lot of places, but never for more than a few months or a year at best. I lived in this house for over three years. I poured my heart into painting, fixing, digging, laying sod, decorating. It was a place of some really great memories. As I wandered through room to room, making sure the movers didn't miss anything, a flood of great times came flashing back. Like, the dining/living room filled to the brim with boxes shoved in the middle so Troy and I could paint around them, or when our house was filled with friends trying to be adult and drinking wine before the Mad Dog was busted out, or my Grandma coming to visit and telling me what a beautiful home I had, and that I could fit at least three kids in each of the rooms upstairs. Or, having the entire Mayer family over for Christmas sitting around a tree that took up half the room.
Yes, it was my home. A new chapter of my life is officially beginning, and I'm honestly petrified, but in a really good way. I just have to remember that the house doesn't hold the memories, but rather my heart. Where they will be safe for a long, long time.
As the last box left and I got ready to leave my home for the last time, I wondered if I should leave a light on so it would look like someone was home, as I often did in the past. But I realized it was kind of silly. There was nothing to steal - and nobody was home.
Good bye house! Thanks for the memories :)