Logically, I am thrilled. It's pretty. They need to be on one level. My dad needs a shower he can easily access (without going down a flight of rickety stairs every night). They will be closer to me so I can run over to help them more frequently.But it's an odd thing to leave your childhood home. Really, I never left. A good chunk of my possessions are still in their home. But now I will really have to move out. Soon. And this new place won't contain any of my old memories: the lane I rode my bicycle up and down; the shed that my elementary friends and I briefly turned into our "secret detective headquarters"; the kitchen where my mom taught me to make black raspberry pies; and the bedroom that housed my fledgling dreams.
It will be their home, not mine.
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2 comments:
...and the time some friends broke in an left a bunch of notes in your room. I wonder if you found all of them?
You will make all new memories in your parent's new house. Especially when you and Kyle get on the ball and give them grandchildren. ;)
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