As I was swinging Gabby in the swing that Tony hung from the tree in the front yard, I started to think about how much I’m going to miss that tree.
So many happy memories revolve around that tree.
Sitting under the cool shade it provided while eating ice cream on warm, Sunday afternoons.
Playing hide and seek with my kids.
Blowing bubbles with my daughter.
Raking up leaves into big piles so the kids could jump into them.
Watching my kids have fun with water in the summer time.
Sitting underneath it while watching my boys shoot hoops.
SO many wonderful memories have been made around that big, beautiful tree.
I started to cry.
I’ve cried a lot since finding out we’d have to move from this house and it has nothing to do with the house itself and everything to do with the memories that have been made inside of these walls.
Ethan’s just as upset as I am, if not more so, because of the very same reasons. This morning when he was finished brushing his teeth as he was getting ready for school, he came out of the bathroom with tears in his eyes.
“This is the last time I’ll brush my teeth before school in this bathroom, Mom.”
And then he broke down and sobbed like a baby.
I hugged him as tight as I could and I told him that I know how he feels.
Because I feel the same way.
I didn’t realize how deeply it would hurt to tear the kid’s bedrooms apart. With each picture that I took off of the wall, a little piece of my heart was yanked from my chest because someone else is going to be sleeping in their rooms and the thought of that makes me so sick that I could puke.
When I see my youngest son so upset about not living here anymore, when he cries because he’s “never going to sleep in his bedroom ever again” I am reminded of when my Grandparents sold their house and how devastated that I was.
I loved my Grandparents house. It was just down the street from my mom’s house and it was like a second home to me. I spent almost every weekend there. It’s funny, all of these years later, I still can close my eyes and remember exactly how that house looked, and how it smelled and how happy I felt when I was there.
I was in high school when they decided to sell it. I couldn’t believe it, I couldn’t understand the idea of NEVER being able to go there again. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that I’d never be able to swim in her pool again, that I’d never be able to bake with my Grandma in that kitchen, that I’d never sit on the porch swing ever again.
Oh, and I couldn’t bear the thought of some stranger living in that house. I cried for days.
The day that my Grandparents moved out was one of the saddest days of my life.
I was there, helping them pack and clean and I cried the entire time.
I remember sitting on the coach and picking up a piece of paper and a pen. I began to write a letter to the new owners of the house.
“I love this house so much, I’ve had so many great memories here, please, take very good care of it because I love it so much and am so sad that I can’t ever spend the night here again.”
I taped notes like that all over the house. It helped me so much to write my feelings out and to tell the people who would be moving in how deeply I loved that house.
I feel compelled to do the same thing here, before we leave for good tomorrow.
“Hi,
I know this house is old and ugly, trust me, I’ve hated it for a long time, but this is the place where we’ve raised our family for the past 10 years. When we moved in, our first born son was only 4 years old and I was pregnant with our second son.
You see that window right there in the living room? When we first moved in there, my little 4 year old would stand there, barely able to see out and he’d watch the neighbor kids ride their bikes. He wanted so badly to play with them, but he was so little, I was afraid he’d not fit in with the kids.
But he did and one of those little boys, Mikey, became his very best friend and every single day, they sit on that wall right there and talk.
Are you a Laker fan? I hope so, because I sure would hate to know that you’re going to paint over that purple and gold stripe that my husband spent hours on. That was Ethan’s room. He loved that room more than he loves the Lakers, and that’s a whole damn lot. I spent a lot of nights sitting at the foot of his bed right there, rubbing his little head to feet to help him fall asleep when he was having a bad dream. Sometimes, I’d fall asleep there next to him and in the morning, he’d wake up and thank me for making him feel safe.
That purple room was our daughter’s room. We spent so much time and money on that room, because we wanted it to be perfect for our unexpected joy. I imagine you’re going to tear the pretty border off of the walls. A lot of work went into putting that border up. My husband would wet it and I’d follow behind him with a blow dryer to make sure it dried quick and stuck to the wall just the way it was supposed to. We would talk about our little girl and what we thought she’d look like and how we still couldn’t believe we were having a daughter seven years after we swore we were done having kids. My little girl loved that room so much and when we had taken all of her furniture out, she cried so hard and said “But I NEED my dresser, daddy, please! Put it back! I need it so bad.” And I cried, and she cried, because no matter how many times I tried telling her that we were moving to a new house, she just didn’t understand.
The master bedroom, that was our room. Our daughter was conceived in that room, on the floor, in front of the bathroom.
Oh, that bathroom. We used to play hide and seek with our boys when they were little and we’d always hide in the tub in there. It was so funny, because they’d get so freaked out when they couldn’t find us, and my oldest son would beg his little brother to “go look first” because he was too scared. Me and my husband would laugh so hard, because it was cute. I guess you had to be there.
There was a lot of love in this house. So much love that as I’m writing this letter, I feel as though my heart might explode because MY GOD, there’s so much love in this house and I hope you feel it and I hope you appreciate just how many wonderful, amazing, sometimes heartbreaking, but mostly beautiful memories were made in this house.
I know everything you are feeling. How lucky we are that we have made homes out of other peoples' houses. I can't imagine how you feel having lived so long in your home and my kids are like little gypsies and could care less about leaving again, my heart is crying for yours Y, I hope your new home is amazing. I like the idea of your leaving notes, send a special one to that heartless pig of a landlord too.