SOLD - Saying Goodbye to the House You Grew Up In


If you are middle aged, chances are you have already experienced saying goodbye to the house you grew up in.


Often as in the case of my family, one parent passes away and the other (after 50 years) decides to downsize, move to an apartment and leave the ghosts behind.


But you never really leave those ghosts behind because the house you grew up in will always be the house you grew up in.


The walls have memories. The shadows that have been casted upon them remain although they change shape over time.


Ask anyone which rooms hold the most memories and they will probably say “my bedroom and the kitchen.”


Sure you remember playing with your siblings and friends in the back yard or the basement and your first kiss on the balcony, your first dream about someone you fell in love with and all the secrets you kept behind the door of your bedroom.


But the kitchen is where you laughed and cried, shared stories of your day, learned how to eat, decided what you wanted to eat, blew out the candles to your first birthday cake, had quality time as a family, argued and debated, sat silently and unable to eat after a break up, introduced your new boyfriend/girlfriend to your entire extended family at a holiday dinner, sat and wondered why you could not fall asleep over a glass of milk and a cookie, answered the phone call that dealt the final blow – the bad news, the accident, the change to life as you knew it, where so many loved ones sat and enjoyed food and conversation – grandparents long gone, relatives taken suddenly and so many empty chairs that will never be full again. 

There's the jiggling of a dog collar somewhere in the distance and although many of your adored canine family members have passed, you can still see them and feel them and hear that jiggling when you walk through the door even though none of it is real. 


                 Two Incredibly Beautiful Souls Who Passed Through This Door - My Dad & Casey

But eventually the house is emptied and you take that final walk around, in and out of every room and each one carries the voices, the images and a huge part of your life’s history.


Your mind takes snapshots that will transform into black and white filmstrips of all that you want to remember and choose to forget and of every emotion ever captured within the confines of that house.


Your sole living parent begins their next chapter and once you close that door; yours begins as well.

It’s strange to think that another family will be living in your house. Some kid will be sleeping in your bedroom and looking out your window and dreaming their dreams.


The parents will stay up late at night trying to figure out their lives one worry at a time.
But they too will have magical moments in the kitchen with food and family and hopes for the future. There will be birthdays and holidays and friends warmly welcomed and fed. There will be a cat or a dog that loves their family and their home and is given a true sense of belonging.


And so , the house I grew up in has been sold.
Lots of happy things took place there and lots of sad ones as well.


And if there was a slide show of everyone who ever came and went through that front door, it would be like a train moving through a tunnel into the dark, into the light with all of its passengers looking out the side windows as the fields and the sun and the sky pass them by having no idea of what is straight ahead - only what they left behind.

Goodbye 5730 - It's been a slice.