So, my mom and stepdad decided to move this year. They left the Silverwood house and moved to Ghent. It's an incredibly timely and important move for them. They are both closer to work and don't have to deal with the tunnel anymore. Plus, no more yardwork! There were lots of important reasons for them to move.
I love the Silverwood house...See love-of-home posts:
home and
home
So their perfectly legitimate reasons didn't make it any easier for me. I don't blame them for moving, obviously, and I was surprised at how upset
I was at the idea of no longer having my "childhood home" to return to every few months. As I told my mom, who did not like the idea of me being upset of course, it wouldn't matter if they sold it 10 years earlier or 5 years from now, this would be difficult for me anytime! I kind of looked at it like "this wonderful place was the only constant home I've ever had... moved there when I was 3, it was dad's house for a bit then it was mom's house while I was in elementary, middle, high school, then all through college when I lived in 4 different places in 4 years, then all those summers I spent in Maine, and even when I got my first apartment in Ghent and my shared house in Arlington... that was my Home, the place I could always return to and feel comfortable and safe.
I did get to say goodbye, though, in my own way. It was the first weekend in March this year. I was home and I wasn't sure I'd be able to get to back to the house before mom sold it. As I was just about to leave and doing my regular "walk through the house and look for things I may have left behind", I noticed the living room window. I've blogged about this window before. I stood and stared at it for a minute, really taking in the view, the window, everything about it. And I felt myself starting to cry because I knew in my heart it would be the last time I looked out at that window. I said goodbye to my mom and fake-out-high-fived my stepdad Rick (it's how we say both hello and goodbye). The second I got in the car and pulled away from that house for the last time, I burst into tears. I was a mess but I knew if I stopped, it wouldn't make anything better or easier for anybody, so I kept heading toward Arlington. I called my mom a few minutes later and cried to her, "It's just so sad!" She listened but I know a part of her was feeling bad for the changes. She shouldn't, of course, but that's what moms do.
I'm a big girl. I'll be fine. I'll always miss that house. I love that Silverwood home. And I love my mom, too, so wherever she is will be home to me.
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Sidenote... part of the moving that weekend was bringing some items from my old childhood to Joy's parents house for Owen. I gave them my old writing table and my rocking horse. (Charlie Horse. Yup, that's what we named him).
A couple days ago, I got this picture and it makes me smile every time I look at it:
The look on my sweet O's face on my old horse...
sigh :)
