The for sale sign went up today.
The reality that the house I spent 18 years of my life in was soon not going to be “my home”. Someone else will live in it and create new memories. If only walls could talk. Oh the stories they would tell.
The walls in our dining room would tell the story of when my brother spun me into the corner and I cracked my head open. My mom almost fainted at the sight of the blood. They would tell of the countless Superbowl parties, family dinners and games nights we held. They would talk about the time Dad fell off the roof and almost landed on my brother. Mom and I watched it happen through the front window.
The sunroom would talk about how it was supposed to be built in 3 days, and instead took 3 months because one of the workers dropped the roof panel on his head and gave himself a concussion. It was where I found out that Santa looked an awful lot like my mom. I lost many Superbowl bets (but I won the most important one) in the sunroom. It was where my parents told us all the important news and where we had all the big talks we usually didn’t want to have. It was where we spent most of our time.
The basement was where all the action happened. Majority of my teen years were spent with my youth group laughing, watching movies and thinking up our next adventures in my basement. The walls would talk about how my parents had just painted the ceiling and the next day my friend put a giant black mark in it. They never repainted it. My best friend lived with me for a summer and we spent every day down there watching our favourite show and eating candy. I had my first kiss in that basement. The biggest fight with my first boyfriend led to our breakup there too.
My bedroom would have the most secrets in it’s walls. It was the safe haven from all of my fights with my parents. It was the place I shed the most tears. It was where I contemplated my life. I had my first sleepover in that room. It was where I told my mom about my teenage pregnancy scare. It was where I thought about running away and it was where I lost my best friend. I grew up in that room.
This was the house I left when I got married. Half of my wedding pictures were taken in this house. It will forever be a part of our memories. This was the house that built me.