This is Goodbye
In 2001 we were different. Our family was smaller. Our Princess was just a baby. A beautiful, blue-eyed toddler. She cried hysterically when we left our apartment to come here. It was the only home she’d ever known and she didn’t understand why she couldn’t stay. But it didn’t take long for this to become her home and frankly, though we lived in Michigan for 18 months a few years ago, she only remembers this.
We had birthdays and Christmases here. Dinners with friends, cook outs, parties and get-togethers. Slowly, the house is becoming as bare as it was when we moved in here a young family with hardly any furniture.
We brought Littlebit and Baby Bee home here. We’ve spent countless nights rocking them in our big bedroom at the top of the stairs, countless nights with little girls sleeping monkey in the middle, countless weekend mornings piled into the bed watching the t.v. that is too small for the space (well, the kids watch. Big Daddy and I try to catch even two more minutes of all too precious sleep).
This is our home.
I have a picture of it. Framed. It hung in our foyer until I took it down to prepare for this move. It is of the blue sky, so perfectly blue and cloudless, and the peak of the house and the four windows that line the wall of our bedroom. It will hang in our new foyer too. A reminder. Of where we came from.
The Princess told me the other day that she’s afraid of leaving her memories behind. I told her that was the best thing about memories. Memories come with you.
A blue-eyed toddler running in a sprinkler.
Feeding grass to the big yellow dog.
The dark eyed baby, who spoke so little but used every single surface in the house for her elaborate tricks.
The living room where I took the phone call telling me my Mom had died.
The chameleon haired baby taking her first steps, joyfully, her arms in the air.
All of that comes with us when we go, but I like to think the specters of them stay here. In the walls. That the laughter and the happiness and the three little girls will leach out of spaces here and into the next family. And the good times and the good memories and the good friends and the beautiful things will grow and snowball until it’s the happiest place that ever was.
And I happen to know that the next family? Has a beautiful, charming little girl too.