Farewell, old house

Tonight is my last night in the home I’ve lived in for the last 14 years.  I moved into it with a husband and a six month old, me at home with the kids full-time and I leave as a divorced single working mother of two teenagers.

This house has seen a lot.  My silent witness.  I’ve had times so terrible that I have looked at the walls, the furniture, the lighting in the room and thought that this house could never be a place that I could feel joy again.  But, time and time again, my house proved me wrong.  Joy followed sorrow, and then sorrow followed joy.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

I am grateful to this house for having been a happy gathering place, both for myself and my children.  It’s door has been open and welcoming to many.  My porch has set the scene for many a languid evening with a glass of wine, me watching the world go by.

It’s been also a great comfort to me.  When my marriage ended, it became my sanctuary.   It’s funny that even when things were good between ex-h and I, it never felt like our house- but nor was it fully mine alone.  The first night he left, I was giddy with relief, and I cleaned and purged and reorganized into the wee hours, finally so happy to be able to breathe and make my environment mine, and no longer a place of conflict.

We move on though to new adventures.  Blending families will be a challenge, no doubt.  So many have done it, yet there are no owners manuals, no how-to’s or best practices.

Farewell, old house, my trusted companion– I’ll miss you and be forever grateful.