Tomorrow I Leave Home

 Tomorrow I am leaving home.

To be fair, I have left home many times.  To move to my college town, to move down the road, to move to another city. But I have never left this home with the knowledge that I could not one day return to it when needed.

Today this is my family home. In a matter of days, it will be yet another memory of times gone by. Today it belongs to us. In a few days? It will belong to someone else.

But that fireplace? We’ve taken countless pictures in front of it. Hung stockings on it. Displayed Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and birthday cards on it.

That den? It has seen fights and movie marathons, late night dance parties, and clanking glasses on New Year’s Eve.

That backyard? It has seen birthday parties and dogs running, clarinet quartet practices, sun bathing, family portraits, and bbq’s.

That kitchen? It has hosted graduation parties and Thanksgiving dinners, unnumbered home cooked meals, and deep chats over wine and late night snacks.

Those bedrooms? They held my secrets. From pop star crushes on taped up posters to whispers with best friends. Poem writing and music blaring. Book reading and tv watching. Endless night and day dreaming. And growing pains galore.

That living room? It has seen tree decorating and many sweet Christmas mornings, wrapping paper everywhere. Conversations with friends and thunderstorm viewing parties.

This house? It has seen it all. Good and bad. Joy and heartache. Tears and laughter. Every. Thing. These walls, they hold it all. They keep me safe and promise home. A place to always return to. A place that knows me better than I know myself.

This house has known me at every stage from 9 to 32. To say it holds a piece of my heart just doesn’t do it justice. It holds a piece of who I am, of who I was. Even though I haven’t actually lived here in years… it has always been home base.

And I’d like to write about how I hope that whoever lives here next can love it and grow with it as I did. But right now, I can’t. Because this is my family home. And to imagine anyone else living in it just feels insincere. This is our fireplace. Our den. Our backyard. Our kitchen. Our bedrooms. Our living room. OUR HOME.

And I know the sayings. Home is not a house. Home is where the heart is. Well… for about 23 years this house is where my heart has been because it has held the people I care about most in this world. So yes, home is about people, but home can also be a place that brings you peace. A place that stood sturdy no matter the storm. A place that brings you comfort and joy and safety and the strength to weather every storm.

By next week this house may no longer hold the people who I love, but it will certainly still hold a piece of my heart. I think it always will.