I thought these walls were going to hold so many more memories. I thought I would have decades here, with worn floors and patched up walls. But instead it is me that is leaving, worn and patched.
I helped build you. I poured my blood, sweat and tears into you, trying to make you perfect for the four lives you were to shelter. I planted trees in spots that would work well if one of them ever decided to marry here. There was purpose to every detail.
You were my home, and then you weren’t. You have taught me a very valuable lesson. You are only walls and a roof. You are a house, but not a home. We are the ones that make you that. When we have dance parties in our pjs in the family room, when we have movie nights, and sleepovers and bakeoffs. When we fill you up with laughter and singing…we make you a home. Any four walls will do.
Thankyou for providing us shelter through this last transition. You were a beautiful house, I did love you dearly. But I can no longer fill you with the joy and laughter I used to. So my four sidekicks and I have to say goodbye. We must close this chapter to open the next.
On to the next adventure. The next house to make our home.