Moving on

As my parents prepare to sell my childhood home and move into their “adventurous retirement” phase of life, I feel like I’m left reeling.

As a child I hated change. My sister and I were distraught when my parents changed the cups in our cupboards and when my Dad upgraded his old truck to a slightly newer old truck. These changes rocked us, and we couldn’t understand why they were needed. Weren’t the old cups just fine? What the hell could have been wrong with the truck when the backseat was so comfy? We eventually adapted, moved on, and embraced the new cups and truck.

I have experienced changes much bigger than the cups and truck since then and have even come to embrace change. From moving across the country multiple times in my twenties, to trying on new ideologies and beliefs, growth and change have become intertwined into my identity. Through all the changes I have experienced in my young adulthood, my childhood home has remained a haven. A place to come back to between cities, during 2020 (we all know), and whenever I needed to get away from all my housemates.

My Dad built our family home and finished it when my Mom was pregnant with my brother. I know each tree in our yard and quite literally grew up with them. It feels grounding to be connected to a place so firmly. The familiarity of the blue spruce trees sprinkled through the neighborhood, the wide open sky that calms my nerves, the Hoskinson’s next door, and the red deck that allows for long nights of lingering. How will I let go of my bedroom? The salmon pink angled walls, the sticker board in my closet, the dollhouse shelf my Dad built to hold all my treasures.

In my greatest dreams, I will create a home as calming. It will take imagination, knowing myself, and lots of grit and determination. But I want to create a home where people feel held. A place that calms nerves welcomes untamed dance parties, and witnesses all of life’s greatest joys and sorrows. In my wildest dreams, this home that my dad built will welcome a new family and will continue to be a true place of connectivity and belonging.

So that’s how I will let go. I will be grateful to have loved a place so fiercely. To let the feelings of love and connection rock me. I’m so lucky. To have had such a safe place to call home. To just now letting it go at 27. To get to envision my own Kansas dream home. And to move on from such a splendid place.