It is currently 10:56 PM and I have to wake up and go to work early tomorrow. I should be tucked into bed right now like Parker is instead of being perched here typing away in the dark, but Jamie is working late and I can't seem to wind down without him here. Sitting alone in our kitchen staring at half-packed moving boxes inevitably leads me to sentimental thinking on our home for the last 2-ish years and all the major life events that have occurred here.
Getting married, having Jamie as excited as I was at the prospect of having a baby and then trying to accomplish that, finding out I was pregnant and then having Parker introduced into our lives. That is allot of growing up in a short amount of time!
Of course, I realize that these walls are just wood, drywall and paint. But they have a life to them all their own. I feel as if the house were remembering with me and in some way saying goodbye. All of a sudden, I don't want to hand over the keys to anyone else. Will they clean it? Will they decorate it and be as proud of it as we were? Will they prune my roses and water Jamie's precious grass to keep it green? More than that, will they love as much as I have and relish their life living in it as I have? I take the memories, pictures, and my family with me when I leave but I can't help the feeling that I am leaving a huge piece of my soul behind. I think I get why people believe in ghosts, I would haunt this house and spend eternity soaking in the atmosphere of my first true home and reliving my time in it.
Where we go from here, who knows? We will be happy, we will have more wonderful moments each day. But this house was the place where I found myself, got to know who I was and learned to appreciate that person. There is so much "letting go" to be done in life and if you ask me, it happens too often.
My resolve is to set my sights on the future and to chase my dreams in whatever kind of dwelling we end up in. I sip a small toast to my Cellini Drive home, thank you for sheltering me and all of the things I love and hold dear and for giving me a sigh of relief at the end of every long day at the sight of your driveway. You were the true meaning of what "home" is supposed to be and in some way, a friend to me. I pray whoever finds themselves wrapped inside your walls in the future feels the same way about you as I do.
