We’re moving. Officially now. We finally got an accepted offer on our house and we’re moving out on April 30th. Right now we’re in the painfully overwhelming process of packing an entire house with three kids and a dog underfoot. It’s amazing how much stuff you can build up when you go from an apartment to a house. And it’s also amazing the things you unearth from the far reaches of the home as you begin the packing process. Things that bring back memories. Baby clothes. Puppy toys. Closing documents from when we bought this place. Old pictures of what the house looked like when we first moved in.
We bought our house three and a half years ago. I can’t believe how much our lives have changed in that short amount of time. We brought three kids into the world and got a puppy. We also went from two incomes to one. That alone calls for some drastic lifestyle changes. We’ve struggled to maintain friendships from our old lifestyle and gained others that fit the new one. In three and a half short years, we have become two completely different people.
And it all happened under this roof.
And now we’re leaving. We’re moving on. Every box that I tape closed and set aside, every day that draws nearer to the closing date, it hits me that we’re actually leaving this place. We’re leaving. It’s kind of surreal to think that this won’t be our home anymore in just a month.
In a lot of ways, I’m reluctant to leave. The house is old, falling apart in some areas, the yard is small and there are probably a million other reasons why I should be happy to be moving on. But still… I’m reluctant. We’ve (literally!) put so much of our blood, sweat and tears into this house. We’ve gone through some serious heartache and triumph here in our first home. Our first day as homeowners. Our first day of owning a puppy together. Our first day as parents. Our first big landscaping project (and a hundred more to follow). I can point out specific areas on the carpet that I’ve toiled over after a potty training accidents, a house-wide flu epidemic, muddy paw prints or nasty food spills. I look around and remember disasters we’ve averted with power shortages, heater failure and flooding. I think about everything we’ve been through here in our first home, and I feel like we’re abandoning it in some way. I know that sounds so silly, but we’re really attached to this place. Because even with all of its shortcomings, it was our first home.
I know it’s time. I hate it, but I know it’s time. We truly are in that stage in our lives where it’s time to move on from our “first home” and find our “forever home”. Peanut will be getting her wheelchair shortly and we need a ranch. Our family grew much more quickly than we had anticipated and we need more space, both in the house and the yard! We’re ready to get back home to the friends and family we know and love. Because it’s just not the same here. We’ve made friends… but it’s not the same. It’s not back home. It’s not our community. It’s not 100% right.
So, it’s time to move on. It’s time to go back home. We’ve hit a few bumps and we haven’t found our forever home just yet. But we’ve got a temporary living situation figured out and we’ll keep on searching for our home. I’m still excited despite the setbacks. I’m excited to see what home we finally find. I’m excited as I think about how attached we’ll grow to that house. I’m excited to think about all of the memories we’ll make there. I’m excited to move on and see where our next adventure takes our family.
(And, honestly, I’m excited to be DONE packing and moving. Woof.)