As I mentioned in a previous post, my family will be moving to a new home in a smaller town next week.
We are leaving our first house. We were so happy when we bought our house. I will never forget the various shades of Pepto pink that greeted us in the living and dining areas. Our kitchen was wallpapered in a lovely grape & vine pattern, and our basement boasted think pink carpeting, with wallpapered hunter green & wine coloured walls. Luckily we were able to see beyond the awful colours and we polished it up and turned it into (what we think) is a little gem.
Over our eight years here, we gutted and renovated bathrooms and basement. We painted. We replaced windows and doors and garage doors. We gardened and added lighting. We made this house a peaceful and loving sanctuary from the pressures of the world. It is cozy, warm and oozes us. My husband and I are in every corner of this house.
We shared our most important milestones in this house: marriage, parenthood, changing career paths. We have done a fair share of growing up here. A testament to what we have poured into this house is how much our son loves our home and has repeatedly told us how much he will miss it.
I will miss it too.
In the midst of doctor appointments, utilities calls, real estate agents and mortgage brokers, new teachers, more doctor appointments, purging/selling/buying furniture and household items (the majority of which has been accomplished from my couch!) I have not had time to truly say goodbye to the home we have lived in for almost 8 years.
I read somewhere that when you sell your home, you almost immediately need to start detaching yourself from the building. You should physically walk through the house, thank it for what it has provided and say goodbye. I tried that. I’m still upset that other people are going to use my wash room, enjoy the awesome basement, cook in my kitchen, enjoy my deck and backyard. Who do they think they are?
When I was a little girl, my family moved around a lot. I attended six different elementary schools (including 2 in Colombia). Although difficult, that experience also provided me with the ability to adapt to new surroundings easily. I quickly learned that new surroundings are made home because of the people you love.
Then why is this move so hard? Perhaps as I get older and am a parent, I yearn for roots. I yearn for that feeling of comfort and security that living in one place affords. I yearn for a neighbourhood that feels mine. I have found this for eight years in this house.
My nostalgia turns into excitement when I think of our new house. I am excited to do this again in a new home, to carve a life in a new house that will once again ooze us, the four of us this time and become truly ours. This is a home we will grow up in with our children. Perhaps, saying goodbye won’t be as hard as I thought.
How do you cope with change of a new home?