Pardon me while I write a completely personal and extremely sentimental post.
I am sitting in my house, surrounded by boxes that the movers packed up yesterday (when they showed up a day early… eek!!) and I have a plethora of emotions running through my head. But it occurs to me that even though we have lived in this house only a year, it is home. I have LOVED this house. In just one short year I have a ton of memories from here. I want to remember those memories, and cherish them. So I’m going to share them with you all.
First and foremost I love that it is where we brought Taylor home for the first time. I remember walking to the front door in utter and complete exhaustion, my body being weak and in pain from the surgery, but elated at coming home with my husband and daughter.
I do not want to forget the nights sitting around in my living room with my small group. Small group sounds so cliche and shallow for the strength and depth of these friendships. Those nights are how I have survived this year. Their friendship, their support, their food, their love, their wisdom… they are as much a part of me as anyone else.
I want to remember floating in the pool on a hot summer day… 9 months pregnant and loving every second of the cool water and floating.
I want to remember the two Christmases we had in this house, our last as just my husband and me and the other Taylor’s first Christmas and Reese’s few short days home during training. I always feel extra emotional during Christmas with the traditions and beautiful church services, but these two have felt extra special. Both years we have had a huge family dinner with my parents, my brother and sister-in-law and my sister-in-laws family. And those are exactly what Christmas dinners should be… endless stories, loud laughter, good natured-teasing and a whole lot of love.
I don’t want to forget my baby shower- a room full of friends who love my little girl. I still look up at my wall of alphabet letters that they all made for me and think about the love they have for Taylor and me. I am so lucky to have women like that in my world.
There are tons of little memories that have happened over the last year, but those are the big ones. And as I watch all my material possessions being loaded on a truck, I have to tell myself that the house is not what makes the memories. It is the people and the life lived inside. I will love my next house, as I loved this one; but for now, I’ll shed a few tears that this chapter of my life is ending and I’m starting a whole new one.
So I’m doing a little grieving today for this house that I love and the life that has been lived inside its walls.