I'm selling my little yellow house today, and while we will still be here for a couple of weeks, by 4:30 it will no longer be ours. We will be here only to finish packing up and moving on and getting it ready for someone else to take over. Someone who will not know about the spot in the living room where Mia first crawled and took her first steps. Someone who will be able to walk into her room without remembering the night we were all sitting by the window and she finally said Mama.
We've packed up our pictures and our books and are slowly emptying this space of the things that made it seem like home when I walked in the door. But we can't pack up the azaleas we back-breakingly planted that first summer or the secret messages painted behind the mirrors in all the bathrooms. We're leaving behind the microwave door handle that doesn't quite fit and the spindles at the top of the stairs chewed before we got here by somebody else's dog, or possibly child. We're leaving the strange little closet hidden under the stairs, that fills with dust and plaster so fast it must be a wonder of the world and that has a mystery light socket with no way to turn it on.
The new people, they seem nice, they love the house and I'm sure they will feel the same way about it that we do. But they will never know the joys and tragedies that came here before them, the things that we are taking with us but also leaving behind as shadows, echos.
I'm excited, thrilled, but when I sign those papers this afternoon it will not be without sadness and regret. I will miss our little yellow house.
Hey, would you all click over here today, if you have a second? There's nothing interesting, it's just that I'm buying a very expensive house in two weeks and every little bit helps, ya know? Appreciate it bunches.