A note to the next family.

I originally wrote this entry back on January 30, thinking the movers would be there the next day. They had to cancel until February 3...then the internet was turned off, so luckily, I had this saved. We are still stuck here at a hotel in Richmond and hope to leave tomorrow if the weather permits.


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January 30: "A note to the next family."

To the next family to live in this house, I have something to tell you. We will pack up and move on, just like the families before us and there will be no trace of the lives that were here. The house may be empty when you walk in, but to me, it will always be full of memories of our times here. May you fill it again with your own new experiences and memories.




I see our little girl learning to walk for the first time right there in the living room. I see us at her first birthday celebration as she got cake all over her face, hair and everything. I see us carving pumpkins at Halloween and answering the door for the 100 kids that showed up for candy. I hear the siren and music on the firetruck when Santa came by and we raced from our dinner table to the front porch to watch him ride by and wave at us.

I remember Christmas mornings opening gifts, teaching our daughter her letters and numbers, watching countless hours of kids' shows, playing with her day after day....all within this house, within these walls.



How can it be that we've only been here for two years and yet it seems like a lifetime. To Molly it has been a lifetime. This is the only home she has ever known. The majority of her little life has been lived inside this house and now we are leaving it.






I know it shouldn't bother me, but it does make me feel a little bit sad. I think the only thing I'll really miss is her precious little baby room. It's where we spent so much time bonding, playing, sleeping, loving, laughing, learning....her childhood began here.

As a child, I never lived in one place for very long and we moved quite a lot. I have no concept of living in the town where I was born and knowing my friends since we were children the way Dan does. I have always been a bit envious of people who can have a simple answer for the question: "Where are you from?" I hate that question, because I don't know how to answer it.

I always got sad and upset when we moved from one place to the next. I would cry as I walked through our house for the last time. I'm sure I'll do that again here too. I'm admittedly a sap and get emotionally attached to things I should let go. One might be mislead to believe I am upset about leaving a house...but I'm not really. It's the events that took place within that house that I will miss.

Yes, we can re-create her room in another house to some extent, use the same decor and colors and so forth. But the essence of that special time with my baby girl in THAT particular room, her first room is special to me like no other can be. I will spend tomorrow night, rocking her to sleep for the very last time in there...I'll sing her a lullaby and we'll fall asleep together as always.

Then bright and early the next day, they will come to take it all away.


A song comes to mind from Amy Grant...(click to listen.)

If these old walls,
If these old walls could speak
Of the things that they remember well,
Stories and faces dearly held,
A couple in love
Living week to week,
Rooms full of laughter,
If these walls could speak.

If these old halls,
If hallowed halls could talk,
These would have a tale to tell
Of sun goin down and dinner bell,
And children playing at hide and seek
from floor to rafter,
If these halls could speak.

If these old fashioned window panes were eyes,
I guess they would have seen it all--
Each little tear and sigh and footfall,
And every dream that we came to seek
Or followed after,
If these walls could speak.