Next week, my family and I are moving across town to a new home in Hardin Valley. We’ve lived in our house in North East Knoxville for the past 4 1/2 years, and although I’m excited for what the future holds, and I know it’s the best decision for my family, I can’t help but be filled with longing for the home and the life we’ve built here. I’ve been reminiscing as I pack each room. It seems every space in this house is filled with precious memories of all the good times (and some bad) we’ve had here.
I will miss the gray paint on my son’s bedroom walls. The color I picked out after pouring over paint samples like it was the most important decision I’d ever make. The color my sweet husband painted on the walls while my pregnant self sat and watched, loving him more and more with each stroke of the brush.
I will miss my lovely front porch, the kind that southern dreams are made of, with white rocking chairs, morning sunlight filtering through the trees, and a picture perfect country view. I’ll miss all the cups of coffee I had on that porch while planning, setting goals, and dreaming of the future.
I’ll miss the back room that was once just a bedroom, but became a hybrid bedroom/office/art studio after my son arrived. The room where all our loved ones stay when they come to visit. Mimi’s room. Aunt Carrie’s room. The room that houses my grandmother’s antique bedroom set that I brought home after she passed…and if I leave the door closed long enough, it still smells like her house.
I will even miss my bedroom where I slept alone so many nights while my husband worked night shift. Where we prayed for something better. The same bedroom where I received the call that my Dad had passed away, where I wept and stumbled frantically in the dark to get dressed to get to the hospital as fast as possible.
And how will I ever replace the kitchen that was the command center of the house, where I cooked hundreds of meals, baked dozens of cakes, and learned to feed my baby boy? The kitchen that hosted many, many family get-togethers and always seemed a little crowded as everyone gathered there for talking, laughing, eating, drinking, and occasionally even dancing.
I’ll miss the backyard that my son did laps around when he was learning to walk. And the huge pine trees that he ran under and through and around faster than I could keep up. The pile of rocks he painstakingly moved from one spot to the other, one by one. The sticks he used to build forts and train stations. The huge shade trees that made it possible to sit comfortably on the back porch mid day in the summer.
I’ll miss the sun-filled dining room where my husband and I hosted our friends and family and all the people we love and fed them and shared so many special memories over our table. Where we celebrated my son’s first birthday, and his second.
And I’ll never forget the back porch where my Dad always loved to sit when he came to visit. The sounds of frogs and cicadas, and twinkle lights sparkling overhead.
So many wonderful things have happened in this house, and I will treasure them always. Change is hard for me. I hold onto things, I grasp at what was, the way things have always been, the good times had. But life goes on, and change is the only constant. And right now, life is leading me in a new direction, so I’ll accept the challenge with an open heart. And I’ll carry all these precious memories with me to the next house, and with the help of my family, my friends, and all the people I love, we’ll make that one a home, too.
