YOU NEVER FORGET YOUR FIRST

I remember being so exhausted the first night. I was physically, mentally and emotionally drained. It was two in the morning and I finally decided to call it a night and shower the paint off of me, so I’d at least be clean for work the next day. I got in the shower and no matter what I did I couldn’t get the water warm. We’d forgotten to plug in the new water heater. So there I was, so exhausted, having a cold shower at two in the morning in a place that felt so foreign. I just stood there and cried, and said “I want to go home”.

I remember thinking that moving must have been designed to be such an exhausting process so that you’re forced to collapse into your new space as a source of comfort. As hard as it was to leave my childhood home, the truth is I loved this house the moment I saw it. The arches, the natural light, the sky high ceilings, the big wood door, the potential... oh the potential. I saw all the things it was and all the things it could be the very first day I walked through that front door. My first night was a cold shower, but everything after is a warm blur of happy memories. We hosted parties, had bonfires, celebrated Christmases. Chris made incredible meals and I cultivated a garden. We got married and made a life for ourselves. We brought our baby home here. It held me during my pregnancy, postpartum, and a pandemic, keeping me safe and comfortable. We rebuilt things, changed things, added things. We repainted every room (sometimes twice) and every piece of trim. We rebuilt the fence, and carved a heart in the maple tree. I’ve spent intimate time in every square inch of this property in the late nights touching up trim and the weekends weeding under the cedars. I know every dent on every wall, and the way each spot on the floor creaks. No matter what the day or how far the drive, I always loved coming home. I love this house.

I never wanted to sell it, I’d always made the argument that it was worth keeping as an income property. Which, although somewhat true, was mainly a coverup for the fact that I knew selling it would break my heart. A one story bungalow was getting tricky with a toddler, but I wasn’t ready to leave just yet. It felt like we’d just finished the last few things on our lists, and I was looking forward to just enjoying it all for a while. I definitely wasn’t ready to leave when we decided to “just go look” at another house that happened to pop up in our dream location. 

And just like that, it’s our last night. It all happened so fast, I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my gardens. After all the chaos of packing, while working, while parenting, in a pandemic... I’m looking forward to collapsing into the comfort our new house will bring, but my heart still isn’t ready to let it go. You can keep your old college sweater tucked in the back of the closet and pull it out every once in a while. You can keep books, old CDs, nostalgia, but you can’t keep your first home. Still, you never forget it.

For now, I’m going to cry. Feel all the feelings this home gives me. Fall asleep looking at the walls and thinking of all the love inside. Come back alone when it’s empty, one last time, just to say a proper goodbye. It’s going to be amazing at our new house, we’ll make memories and fill it with love, and in no time I’ll never want to leave. But for now, my little “Erie, like the lake” house... thank you.

I’ll pass the keys to this little dream onto to the person who will write the next chapter of this century long story, with a little note that reads...

“We want you to know this house is magic. It speaks to you through its creeks in the floor and big wood doors. In the spring, the gardens become home to toads, protecting your new plants from pesky bugs. The hostas will grow bigger than you can ever imagine. The phlox and rose tree overwhelm with their bright white blossoms, but be sure to watch out for the fleeting pink peonies. On Sundays you can hear church bells and in the summer you can hear seagulls. A breeze blows throw the screen door just right, and on a sunny day the tall windows fill the house with light. No matter how late into August it gets, you’re bound to find a needle from a Christmas tree. In the fall, the bush beside the porch lights up fire red and the fallen leaves look like rose petals on the path. When the snow falls heavy, it sits on every branch of every tree like a fluffy blanket. On a clear winter night when the moonlight hits it just right, it almost sparkles. 

We want you to know that it’s special. Strong and safe, filled with love and built to hold your most precious memories.

We want you to know, it’s so much more than a house... welcome home”