Closing the door

Despite the craziness that has been our life for the past few months with selling our house and buying a new one. Despite the fact that we could have closed on our new house yesterday but my tax accountant husband wants to wait a week to see if this stimulus passes which will give us a HUGE tax credit. And despite the fact that I'm tired and worn out from packing, cleaning, unloading, carrying boxes, and having no home, I cried my heart out when I shut the door on our old house on Sunday.

I could feel it coming on. As I emptied each room, vacuumed and closed the door, I found myself opening the door back up for one more peek. I stood in Little Bit's room and remembered how it was hot pink when we moved in. I tried to etch in my mind where her crib was in her tiny little room. I looked in our bedroom that was so small you had to turn sideways to walk beside on side of the bed. Then I stood in our empty kitchen and I cried and cried and cried. I'm talking sobs. 

We lived in it for almost four years to the day. From August of 1996 to February of 2005 when we bought it, I had moved 11 times. I called it our shoe because it was so small. It was our first house. Our first home as a family. Where I almost set in on fire by melting a plastic lid in the oven. Where Oscar the Boxer shredded an entire package of toilet paper and it looked like it had snowed 6 inches. Where I lived when my Papaw Lonzo died. Where we brought Sophia to when we left the hospital. Where we almost froze to death when the electric went off during a blizzard. Where it took us hours to get home if there was a wreck on the main road. Where Santa and the Easter Bunny first came. Where the Steelers won the last 2 super bowls. And on, and on and on.

Now I'm sitting it this brand new house. It feels foreign and big and quiet because no memories have been made here yet. In fact, it feels empty. And despite being filled with a million boxes and furniture, it feels emptier than the house that we left 8 miles down the road.