Home Sweet Home

Moving day. It seems fitting that of all the days to say goodbye to the house that has been my home for the past ten years, that I do so today, on my eleven year wedding anniversary. To say moving is bittersweet does not begin to fully encompass my emotions at this moment. 

This house was the first home I’ve even owned. It is where I brought Ethan home from the hospital, the sidewalk where he learned to ride his bike, the hallways I’ve dusted with tooth fairy dust, marked with Santa footprints, and sprinkled with leprechaun coins.  It is the garden bed where I planted the pink hydrangeas, it is the nursery where I stood on a ladder while eight months pregnant to hand paint clouds on the ceiling so the baby had something to look at. 

It is the living room where I toasted my bar passage and my first “real” attorney job, where I celebrated my first win in court, and drowned my sorrows after my first loss. It is the dining room where we had Thanksgivings surrounded by loved ones, including the one when the cat ate the turkey. 

It is also the house where, after a decade of marriage, I signed my divorce papers and told our son that "Mommy and Daddy still love you, but can't live together", the kitchen window where I held my brain scans to the light, trying to see if the tumor had grown, the basement where I sat, alone, in the dark, and howled at the ceiling after I learned of a loved one's terminal illness. 

It is the home where I realized that even after your heart is shattered, life goes on. I am ready to go, ready for this new chapter, and happy for all the wonderful memories, but thankful to be closing the door on those not-so-wonderful ones. 

Farewell, Meadow Rose. I will miss you.