Home Sweet Home

When I was 8 or 9, I was walking home from school one day and saw a man taking pictures of our house. I went inside to find my mom sitting at the kitchen table, and I asked what he was doing. I remember her words - that man is taking pictures because we are selling our house. I was devastated. Nothing could be worse to me at the time. I wish I knew then what I know now.

Fast forward to April 2011, and my parents told me again that they were selling our house. Only this time, I’m not a little girl. I’m married and a mom, and I don’t even live in that house anymore. So why am I just as upset?

Over the course of the last couple of months, as my parents finally got an offer on their house, had an offer they made on a new house accepted and started the process of packing and moving, they have both said to me something to the effect of “the bricks and mortar don’t make the memories.” I must respectfully disagree. That house that they are leaving holds countless memories in its walls and oh, if those walls could talk.

They would say that for 22 years, a family lived there, loved and fought there, laughed and cried there. We had good times and hard times and a lot of time in between. There were birthdays and celebrations. Parties that our friends still talk about. We welcomed new people into our family and said goodbye to others. Sundays were for watching football and family dinners. My siblings and I moved out and came back and then moved out again, finally leaving my parents with an empty nest. I got ready for my wedding there and my brother was married in the backyard. A whole new generation of our family started. It was a home for not just the six of us, but for so many others who were welcomed there, so many friends who became family.

I have my own home now with my husband and children, but this change still makes me sad. Sad that I’ll never drive down New Castle Lane again and pull into the driveway at 310. Sad that I’ll never again wonder why we only open one side of the garage or why the builder put the light switch so far back in the powder room. Sad that my parents will no longer be residents of Logan Township. Sad that my kids won’t remember the house that I grew up in and that I’ll never be able to show it to them. But if God is closing the door of our old home, I guess I’ll have to peer into the window of the new one to find out what lies ahead.

“There are places I remember 
All my life, though some have changed 
Some forever not for better 
Some have gone and some remain 
All these places have their moments 
With lovers and friends I still can recall 
Some are dead and some are living 
In my life I've loved them all.”