Friday, January 7, 2011


So I've tried to balance this week's posts.  I didn't want to post all week about goodbyes and sadness and doubts.  So I tried to give a little funny here and there as well...but today is my last full day in Richmond.  I'm spending it packing and cleaning my house and I just started thinking about the word "Home."  When I'm living in Northern Virginia, in my in-law's house, will I call it "home?"  When we come back on the weekends to complete the move, will I say then that we're going "home?"

Its not always clear what home is.  This house that I live in for one more's the only home my children have ever known - will they even remember it?  I know Freddie won't.  Maybe Ainsley will be able to recall fuzzy memories after looking at pictures and hearing stories.

So this that I did not plan on living in forever, one that we would have left soon no matter where jobs took us, one that is bursting at the seams with children and clothes and toys and is still our home.

This is the home that we brought Gatsby to when he was just 8 weeks old.  All covered in fleas and dirt and grime.

This is the home that Clif and I became more than a couple, more than two people living together.  This is where we promised forever, for better or for worse.

This is the home that we became a family in.  The place where I spent 9 months with Ainsley kicking and flipping in my belly.

This is the home we brought her to that first day out of the hospital.

This is the home that we added Brinkley to.

This is the home where we decided on another baby.  Where we went through sad times and frustrating times until finally, Freddie was real.

Tomorrow when I walk out the door, I'll wonder who will make memories here next.  I'll wonder if they'll be young like we were, excited to buy their first house and start their lives together.  Or will they be older, retired, looking for a place to spend their golden years.

As I walked around packing and cleaning today, I though about how frustrated I've been with the lack of closet space and the ugly kitchen floor and the bathroom tiles that won't come clean, but as I write this, I can't help but feel sad to be leaving.  Most of the important things in my life have happened right here.  All these monumental memories wrapped up in one little cape cod that we've called home for 5 1/2 years.

I know that we'll find a new home.  That we'll welcome another baby (side bar: not pregnant, not trying to start rumors...I'm talking in the future people) or another puppy or celebrate an anniversary or birthday in a new home.  And that home will take on a life of its own and become our home.  That home will be the one our children remember, where they'll spend their birthdays and where they'll be grounded and where they'll feel safe.  It will be the place they leave one day to start their own lives, their own careers, their own families.  That place?  That's where they'll call home.  Not here.  But Clif and me?  I think we'll always think of this as the starting point.  Our home.  The place where our story began.

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