When it came right down to it, I realized I was going to miss the old house.
I had lived there since I was three. My very first memory is getting lost and crying in the basement when my family was doing a final walkthrough before buying. It's funny how you can be so impatient with something, but when it comes time to let go, you find yourself a little reluctant. I was impatient with that house. It was dirty and old, and I was always stuck sleeping in the basement which I hated because SPIDERS. Plus, my family had gone through some really tough times in that house, memories that I was ready to put in my past and forget about. Still, when moving day came, I felt a little sorry to say goodbye.
I'm not a clutter keeper. I didn't want to bring a bunch of sentimental knick-knacks with me to the new house, so I just took pictures of some of my favorite belongings and then threw them away.
Here I am with my old walkie-talkies from the spy detectives days.
I hugged the various toys and stuffed animals that had been gifted to me over the years for the last time.
These are the shoes that walked me all over Italy.
I love the feeling of being wrapped up in an old quilt, so I kept my baby blanket well into my teenage years. Eventually a massive hole developed, so I took to wearing it like a poncho.
Marn and I finally got permission to roller-blade in the kitchen. It was ridiculously fun.
I had one last party to commemorate the big move. Was there ever a weekend when that living room wasn't been packed with rowdy teenagers, or later, even rowdier college students?
Dad and I were really happy with the new house. Even though he still had a 21 year old tag-along, Dad was allowed to move into the retirement community just a few blocks away from the old house. He also retired from being a 5th grade teacher. It was a much-needed fresh start, and we were happy little roommates.
Did your family ever move growing up? What was it like? WBS! Jess
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