Reflections on selling our first house, and thanking the place we called home.

As I posted on social media recently, our personal lives were extremely busy this past week as we finished a chapter of our family story and prepare to write the next one (content unknown).

We sold, packed up, and said goodbye to our first home together.

We had been considering selling our home for a bit as we realized how quickly our little boy was growing up. We know he’s just shy of only being two, but “they grow up fast,” is perhaps the greatest understatement of all time. Kyle’s parents had been teachers in the school system that he grew up in, and he really has his heart set on his son having the same great educational experience in that school system that his family is so connected to.

The market is a bit….busy right now, well known to all who are currently buying, selling, or renting. But we were unprepared for just how busy it is. Houses are listing and selling in 24 to 48 hours, most not accepting contingencies. With the fortune of having a small lake cottage we could utilize for the time being, we felt it was in our best interest to go ahead and sell our home so that when the right house comes up we can be as ready as possible to make it ours.

Now being on the flip side of the coin and having walked out the door of our home for the very last time, I’m spending some time processing and reflecting on what that home meant to us. And that’s what I felt called to share with you all.

Our home.

Our home had bookshelves. Built in bookshelves that housed Kyle’s grandfather’s abundant collection of sci-fi novels. It held yearbooks of our highschool days, histories of who we were before ever crossing paths. It shelved photo albums and picture frames of loved ones past and present. Scents of candles and old encyclopedias collided together like their own fragrance worth bottling. It was where we kept our collection of parenting and baby development books that eventually turned into rows of Llama Llama and Dr. Seuss. Those bookshelves saw days of being filled to the brim and days of keeping that bottom row empty as little hands learned to reach and little legs learned to stand.

Our home had warmth. Beautiful, quiet mornings of sunlight drifting across hardwood floors. The perfect napping spot for beloved dogs. Coffee and creamer in warm mugs. Cozy blankets draped across a well loved couch, with, somehow, just enough space for everyone. Fireplaces glowing on the coldest of winter nights. Ovens preheating for homemade pizza night.

Our home had safety. It was shelter on difficult days. It was a refuge from workdays that were tolling and a pandemic that was exhausting. It was a safe space when big feelings needed to be expressed or heartbreaking news felt like too much for our hearts. Our home had dogs barking at any questionable noise (or vibration for our deaf pup). Our home was where we could lock out a tough day or heavy world and embrace the security of a loving partner with protective hearts.

Our home was quiet. With tiptoes and whispers to not wake the baby.

And our home was loud with new toys and constant music and impromptu dance parties. It was intense games of puppy tug of war and 2am nursings to soft lullabies.

It was a paradox of hushed and rowdy at any given time.

Our home saw beginnings and ends. It saw milestones and life changes. It saw a dating couple figuring out life together. It saw an engaged couple planning a wedding. It saw newlyweds writing out thank you cards just weeks before finding out they would become parents. It saw pregnancy. It saw growth and development and tears and celebration. It saw a newborn baby join our family. It saw a beloved pet cross the bridge. It saw fights and apologies but always love. It saw friends and family gather in celebrations and camaraderie. It saw house projects take years.

And it saw years take seconds.

Thank you to our first home for hosting such an incredible time in our lives. It’s hard to believe how much has changed since first moving into that home in 2015.

The final item that we removed from that house was a sign that held the bottle of wine we drank to celebrate when we first moved in. That sign read “It feels good to be home.” And there is no better way to describe that house.

To the family writing the next chapter inside of their new home, we hope you enjoy everything those walls have to offer. We hope that quiet Sunday mornings in beautiful sunshine soaked rooms become your favorite day of the week. We hope the sound of little feet running down the hallway is your favorite soundtrack. We hope movie nights and pizza nights always feel special. We hope cocktails treat you well on warm patio nights.

We hope it feels good to be home.