And I don't just mean in the general sense - although, moving is a bitch. Let's be real.
But more than the physical aspect, the emotional toll can be so much harder. I'm no stranger to moving from beloved homes. Right before my senior year in high school, my mom sold our childhood home. (We stayed in the same district, she's not a monster.) I remember being angry, sad, and there's a good chance I used a few choice words when she told me.
To put it short, I was devastated. This had been my home since I was five years old. I grew up in these rooms. My siblings grew up in these rooms. I pouted. I cried. I raged. But in the end, what choice did I have?
So we moved. And while I lost my beloved bedroom with two closets - I still miss those closets to this day - I admit my mom made the right decision. We only moved a few streets down and on occasion, my mom, sister, and I would drive by the old house just to check it out. I wish I could tell you how livid my mother was when she saw what these people had done to her rose bushes and the landscaping, but I don't think words do it justice.
And to this day, over 10 years later, I could still walk through the rooms with my eyes closed and tell you exactly where each crevice is and exactly which step creaked. I will admit that I am constantly checking to see when the current owners put it up for sale. Speaking of . . .
Nope. Still off the market.
Just over a year ago my mom decided to sell that house too. I'd been out the house for years, my sister a year or two, and my brother a few months. She made a very adult decision that the house was too big for just her and the beau and that a family with young children should enjoy it as much as we had. Plus, they were currently 30 minutes from work - in good weather with no traffic. It was no longer practical. I was fine. Bummed, but fine.
Now it's my turn. It's my turn to be the adult and sell a beloved home. And I'm not sure I'm ready for this.
This is the house that after months of house searching, Joe and I knew was home immediately upon pulling up. The house Joe and I bought after living together in our apartment The house we decided would be our home. The house we wanted to create our memories in together.
Over the years, it has been the perfect home. It has taught us the joys and tribulations of home ownership. It has taught us how to choose the right paint color. How to a bit handier. How when a raccoon has decided to make your attic its new home, it sounds like a person walking around your house. Really not cool at three in the morning.
We got Bentley while we lived in this home. I can still see him climbing up the stairs from the garage. A Christmas present weeks in the making and one of the best surprises of my life.
We were married while we lived here. There are pictures of Joe and his groomsmen getting ready, and taking shots, in our living room.
I came down the stairs one morning in March to give Joe an early birthday present - a positive pregnancy test. He was in the middle of vacuuming and was so annoyed that I was interrupting him for, what he assumed, was something nonsensical. But I stood on that bottom step, ready to hand him his surprise, and knew our lives would never be the same.
This is the home we brought Teacup Human to after leaving the hospital. I can tell you exactly where she was the first time she laughed, the first time she rolled over, the first time she crawled, and the first time she walked across the room holding my hands.
I know that I will always have these memories regardless of where we are living, but something about not being in the physical space is hard and emotionally draining. It's silly. I know this, but I won't apologize for my emotions. I can tell you right now that when I see our current home empty and devoid of our possessions, I'm going to cry.
And it's going to be about as pretty as when I cry during the Amazon "Lion" commercial. If this commercial doesn't hit you in the feels on some level, you are a monster. A monster who hates dogs. A monster who hates babies. A monster who hates life!
I've had my moments where I get sad about leaving and seeing all our things in boxes, but I don't think it's hit me that come Sunday, this will no longer be our home.
Our move is not a bad thing. I am excited to move and begin the new phase our life. We love our upcoming new home and are beyond excited to make new memories and grow our family. Change is hard. But it's also necessary and can be rewarding. I'm ready for our family to take the next step in our lives. The important thing is that we are together. And wherever that is, that's home.
