Ever had something in your life that shaped you so deeply that saying goodbye feels like losing a piece of yourself? It's that classic struggle of parting ways with something that's been a huge part of who you are. For me, that something was my childhood home.
The day had come.
We had been waiting all summer for the sale of my childhood home to go through. It would be tomorrow. Everything seemed to be on plan. No hiccups. No issues. I should have been elated. But as I sat on the floor in my now empty childhood bedroom, I couldn't bring myself to leave. I couldn't move. I was questioning how I could walk out that door knowing it would be for the last time. I've been able to come and go in this house since I was 3 years old. Now I haven't lived there since I was 17 when I left for college. I moved back for a short stint when I was 21 for about 3 months after I graduated and before I moved to my first apartment in the city.
But I always knew I could return home. Always. This house holds all of my childhood memories. If I close my eyes, I can hear the laughter of me and my best friend giggling about our latest boy crush, or hear Michael Jackson or the movie soundtrack to Grease playing in the living room as we sang and danced around the room. I could see the mud cakes we carefully baked in the hot sun on the curb outside my home as we waited for our neighborhood crush, Willie, to potentially walk by. I could catch a glimpse of one of my childhood dogs or cats running up or down the stairs. This place housed all of my big dreams. There are too many memories to count about my brother, mom, and all of the family that walked through our doors throughout the years. It's also my place to go to be near my father who passed 17 years ago. His art studio was in that home. And I could always go and sit in his chair and hold his paintbrushes to be near him.
But as I sat there, feeling the weight of all these memories, something shifted. I realized that even though the house held all of those beautiful, timeless memories, they live in the past. The house itself seemed to be telling me it was time to move on. The walls were now bare, the rooms silent. It was time for a new family to bring new life to the house, for new memories to be made.
What finally got me off the floor and out the door for the last time was realizing that the house had served its purpose. It built me, shaped me, and now it was letting me go. It was time for me to let go, live in the present, and move forward.
Another Beautiful Fix
When we received the congratulatory news that the house had officially closed, I played one of my favorite Miranda Lambert songs on a loop, "The House That Built Me." As the young kids would say, "it hit different." I've always loved that song, but now that the home has been sold, it gutted me. Her words told my story. I found comfort in knowing that I'm not alone in this. If you'd like, take a moment to listen.
This week's challenge
Reflect on the places and things that have shaped you. Sometimes, letting go is the hardest part, but it's also the most necessary for growth. Remember, the memories stay with you even after you leave.
Holding onto memories,
xoxo Tracy
P.S. Am I the only one or does anyone else listen to sad songs when you're already feeling sad? Sometimes you just need to feel all the feels I guess.
