I drove by our old house tonight.
I was on my way home from going to town for an annual thrift sale at a church. I had dinner with friends, and since I was already late getting home, I figured another few minutes wouldn't hurt.
I first stopped at the grocery store for some milk. This was our neighborhood store, so it was familiar, and I saw the regular workers who I hadn't seen in weeks.
Then I used the new road to the apartment complex (newly built and opened since we left) to get to the neighborhood. This was totally new and different, so I was already feeling the change.
As I drove through the familiar road, I saw the same cars in the driveways, the same lights on and off, and the same friendly neighborhood homes. When I passed by our old house, I wanted to turn in. I wished, in that moment, that I could go back to our house and have it the same as it once was. The new owner/tenants had some lights on, but they specifically had one room brightly lighted with the window opened. It looked like maybe a treadmill was in that room. What was weird about this is that we never had that room window open. The blinds were always shut because it was Charlie's room. That room was always the darkest and the lights were off the earliest. With the new owner, that was the only room being used.
They had the back light on, which we also kept on for a few weeks when we first moved in, before realizing how safe the neighborhood was. There were dimly lit windows in the other parts of the house, and I could picture exactly which light was causing the glow.
The problem with driving by again was that it made this huge change--the change I haven't been thinking about--a reality. I realize that people move all the time, and someone owned our precious house before us, but it doesn't make it any easier to move. I lived in the same house for thirteen years growing up, so it's been a tough transition for me to move after only three-and-a-half years.
As I drove by, I couldn't help but feel emotional.
Once again, I saw the memories flooding back, and I could see us in the house at 8:30 p.m., sitting together on our couch. In the winter, we might have a fire going, and in the spring, we'd have the windows cracked to let in the cool air. Every night I would look around, so thankful for our home and for everything in it. We worked so hard to get that house, and we loved it so, so much.
There were a few things about the house that we knew would be problematic over the years, and for that, I am thankful we were able to move out so quickly.
Besides the physical house, the location was perfect, the yard was where Charlie's little feet took their first steps, the trees sheltered us from the harsh winds and rains, the deck provided a place to socialize with friends and family, and the porch was where Charlie and I would wait for daddy most days while listening to the birds.
The layout of the house was perfect. Charlie would run in circles from the foyer to the living room, then to the dining room and back again, stopping at the front glass to look out. We helped him learn to climb stairs on our L-shaped staircase, and I also fell down them a few times (as did Charlie the day we were moving out). I carried many loads of laundry to our sweet mud room. Our couches fit like a glove in our living room, and the fireplace was so beautiful. The kitchen window looked out into the wooded yard and the colorful umbrella on the deck. Our bedroom was so big compared to what we had in the past, and our walk-in closet was like another room. The guest room used to be J's game room and soon became a guest room with a bed. Our nursery was the most beautiful room in the house. It had the best light from the sun, and it was in the trees. It was Charlie's room, and that made it so special. We spent months decorating our house to what we liked, and the love showed.
I hope the new owner likes the house, and I hope they'll take care of it. We loved that house, and we always will. The new house will be wonderful, and once we break ground, my excitement will cover my emotions. Living in a small space doesn't help me feel better about things, that's for sure.
Until we get into our new house, I'll try to imagine the new owner enjoying the house as much as we did, and I'll pretend they left my golden-yellow wall the same because they liked it that much.
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