End of an Era

As I sit here, it is around 5 am.

Tonight is the last night we will spend in this house.  We’ve lived here for nearly four years and while that might not seem like a long time to some people – Brian’s parents have been in the same house since before he was born – it is a long time for us.  This was our house and, despite it’s problems, we loved it.

Four years ago, from the second I walked in the door, I fell in love with this place.  I pictured us sitting in our sun room reading as a summer breeze kept us cool.  I could see parties being held in our backyard which was really just a giant brick patio.  I loved the ten foot ceiling upstairs and the six foot ceiling in the basement.  I remember making a pallet on the floor because I was too excited to be living here to wait for all the furniture to be moved in.

In this house, Brian proposed.  It was a late Sunday night in October – I had just returned from a long day of work – and he surprised me with a gorgeous bouquet of roses and the question I had been waiting for him to ask me.  If I stand in the dining room, I can picture the event clearly in my mind: I dropped my bags and just hugged him tightly for several minutes.  It may not have been the most “romantic” proposal ever, but this is where it happened.

In this house, I took my first and also my second pregnancy tests.  One was a couple years ago and was negative.  One was a little more than a year ago and was positive.  In this house, my belly grew.

On November tenth of last year, when she was just two days old, we brought Lorelei home to this house.  We thought and planned and dreamed of what it would be like for her to grow up here.  We imagined how we would remodel the house so that she could have her own space when she was a little older.  In my mind I could see her splashing in a kiddie pool in our backyard and learning to walk in our living room.

Not quite two weeks ago, everything changed.

We made a decision that we probably should have made a year ago: we decided to move.  We resisted because, like I said, we loved this house.  We loved it’s quirks.  What we didn’t love was the ridiculously expensive mortgage payments and the inconsiderate neighbors.  We didn’t love that our bedroom and the nursery were in the same room and that it was going to be that way for a long time.

This morning, the movers come.  They won’t be taking everything, but they will be taking the big stuff.  The stuff that means we’re officially living in a new place.  And when they do come, I will probably cry.  When, in a week or so, the last of our stuff is gone from this house, I will stand in each empty room and think of all the good things that have happened in them and cry some more.

But then I will lock the door for the last time and go home to my new apartment.  The apartment where Lorelei will say her first words and take her first steps.  There will be good memories there, too.

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About Kirsten

Wife, mother, writer and all around knerd. Maker of cookies, scarves and really big messes.

Posted on May 5, 2010, in Musings and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. This made me tear up a little… you write so well…
    Hope everything goes well… send us yr new address!

  2. Dude, you are me like two weeks ago. Good luck. Thinking of you.

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