Anyone who has been involved in selling a childhood house knows it can be emotionally stressful and bittersweet. It is more than just a house; it is a place in which years of memories have been created and where lives have been lived. It is where your story begins.
I was lucky enough to live in my childhood home from the age of two until I got married at 23. I experienced significant phases of my life there - from toddler, teen, to young adult. I have also been blessed to spend time there with my own children, continuing the many experiences and family traditions I grew up with. My fondest memories are the holidays (my Mom would set the dining room table brilliantly, with silver utensils, fine China, and fancy table cloths), the fun sleepovers with high school friends, and the summer nights spent sleeping outside in my Dad’s pink panther pop up tent (because, you know, why go with an average tent when you could have one that is extravagant). I also shared my first kiss with Dan (my husband), at the age of 16 on the front walkway of this home… I remember running in afterwards, so excited to share the news with my parents! These memories are all very dear to me, and I am reminded of them every time I step through the front door of that house.
Over the last year, my Mom, siblings, and I have spent countless, emotional hours going through old possessions and making tough choices on what to keep. My parents purchased this home 47 years ago, so you can imagine what was found: drawings from when I was six, my old sports trophies, and of course, my angsty teenage diary (which I allowed my daughter to read… still debating whether that was a good choice or not).
Recently, my childhood home went on the market. I was expecting to have a little time to take this in, but within hours of listing, my Mom had her first showing and was offered listing price. The buyer also left a note, saying how much they adored the home and how they would embrace the opportunity to raise their three children there. Bidding farewell to the dwelling you grew up in is bittersweet, but knowing a young family is going to have the chance to experience all that I did in this home is quite touching. I am relieved to know that this house will be left with a family who will cherish the times there , to know that it will not be empty, but full of love and considered “home” once more.
Homes are not made of bricks and mortar – they are made from memories, relationships, and life lessons. As sad as it will be to say goodbye to this house, it will never change the fact that the moments shared within these walls shaped me into the person I am today; it is the home that built me, and the memories live beyond the walls I grew up in, beyond the streets I ran down as a child - they live in my heart, and they always will.
P.S. - I know my Dad is looking down from Heaven right now, so happy that my Mom is finally going to get that water view she has always wanted!
