I have lived in this house for 20 years. Twenty years of birthdays and holidays have been spent here. When my daughter was three years old, I saw her here swinging happily from the chandelier in her bedroom.
Last week I put my house on the market and it sold within a day.
Like all big decisions, I don’t wake up one morning and think, this would be a great day to sell my house. This idea had been brewing in my mind for years – five to be exact. The realtor who sold it had been here five years ago, took pictures, told me what the process was like, and sent me to see the new house. I told her I wasn’t ready yet.
I’m not ready to let go yet. All three of my children learned how to crawl and walk in this house. Surrounding the driveway are flowering pear trees that I planted with sleeping babies on my back, where they learned how to ride bicycles. I dug in the dirt for hours and planted hundreds of hydrangeas. The hill on the edge of our home is a beloved sledding spot. Our ducks roam every inch of our four acres, and our first family dog is buried here.
I painted every room at least three times and replaced every light fixture. I stayed up late organizing the dishes on the open shelves in the kitchen. It’s like these four walls have become a part of me, however, something has changed this year. I still don’t know what it is, but I’m saying goodbye.
Until recently, I had always felt that this house was home. I feel at peace here, like this is where I was meant to be forever. But over the past few months, I’ve come to realize that now that my kids are older and starting their own adventures, I just outgrow this place. I had a strong desire to start over in a new town, in a new house. I’ve fought back that nagging feeling, but I always come back to the same thought: I shouldn’t be here anymore.
Most importantly, I know that the memories I shared with my children are within me. They are in my children and my ex-husband. Our memories are not limited to walls covered in red vinyl siding and black shingles. They are not on our picnic lawns or in the dirt we dig to plant our gardens. We are here to share the good and the bad of these 20 years, but I realize we can all move on and be okay. We carry these memories with us wherever we go.
Yes, we have mixed emotions, and yes, we will miss this home. But it’s just a house. It’s just a space. it is not us.
I was excited, scared, and nervous about starting over. But that didn’t stop me because now my curiosity and need to change and grow is even stronger. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I knew it was the right one.
Katie Lives in Maine with her three children, two ducks and a golden retriever. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, going to the gym, redecorating her house, or spending way too much money online.
