We are moving.
Well, technically we are listing our house for sale, but the theory is it will sell, and then we will move.
To say this has been more work than I anticipated goes without saying. To say that it’s more stressful than I anticipated goes without saying. And when that “Coming Soon” sign hit the yard yesterday I lurched a little.
I’m still feeling tilted.
J and I bought this house in 2001. We were recently married, just a few years. It was the biggest decision we had made since deciding to get married. We picked a cute little 1000 sq ft 2 bedroom 1 bathroom house close to downtown where we could live the urban life. And life was indeed good.
A few years later Jett came along, and 2 years after that, Carlos. Suddenly 1000 sq ft with 4 people, a geriatric cat and a rambunctious dog felt so much smaller. So in 2006 we decided to remodel and add onto our humble little house. We converted a 1 car garage to a 2 story living space, and felt like we could breathe again.
Until now. The boys are bigger, we had a 3rd baby (surprise!) and we have once again outgrown our space.
So we are selling our beloved home. Looking for one a little closer to J’s work, a little farther from the city center. Out of our neighborhood.
And my roots are deep here. While I enjoy an adventure, I’m most comfortable at home. I know every nook and cranny of this house. Shoot, I helped design half of it. It’s made to fit our every need (until our needs changed).
I know I will do fine, thrive even, in a new house. I’m a friendly sort, and will get to know a new neighborhood. I’m a tad obsessed with things, so I will most likely learn the new house’s nooks and crannies. And I’m sure I will grow to love the new house.
But right now I’m mourning the loss of my first house, my first home. Where my marriage grew, where my children were babies, where I planted my first garden.
Nostalgic, and a tad overly sentimental? Yup. But lately, that’s how I roll.