It’s a new moon today. Do you know what that means? New beginnings.
It’s time for us to part ways, to say our goodbyes and move on to new adventures.
It’s sad. And I’m trying not to cry writing this to you. At the same time though, I am, and forever will be, grateful to you and everything that living inside your walls has meant to our family. It’s completely bittersweet.
It was 1995 and my parents were looking for a new house – they were ready to buy their first home in Australia. You were just a shell of a home, your carpets weren’t laid and your potential was untapped. My parents chose the house across the road instead. I visited you a few times over the coming years, playing with the children who eventually moved in.
Then one day, the most amazing thing happened. I watched from my house as a new family arrived with their trailer full of boxes and carried them through your door and I knew intuitively something special was about to begin. We watched each other for weeks, and finally, Brian and I spoke to each other for the first time in the middle of this street that was at once not his, nor mine, but ours.
Our first trembling kiss occurred in your doorway, not knowing what the future and that doorway had in store. Time marched on and eventually Brian and I decided to marry at the same time as his parents decided to sell you and move closer to Brian’s aging grandparents. We took the opportunity and grabbed you with both hands.
That was 2007. Since then we’ve stripped you bare, removed your carpet and painted your walls, we’ve reassembled your kitchen and bathroom and landscaped your gardens. It has been a labour of love. There is not one part of you – inside our outside – that we didn’t touch and re-invent. We’ve rented you out in order to move closer to work and the city and we’ve moved back in, over and again, many times. You were ours, and owning you gave us the freedom to enjoy you however we chose.
You’ve seen us at our happiest – enjoying endless birthday celebrations, days of laughter in the pool, and the smallest moments of simple household delight. You’ve reveled in the Friday night pizza and movie nights, and entertaining friends and family for dinner. You’ve delighted in the pitter-patter of little feet on your floors and photos of smiling faces have graced your walls.
But you’ve also seen us at our most raw, most vulnerable and most hurt. You’ve listened to our cries of despair as we lost our first pregnancy and later the months of difficulty as we adjusted to having two small children under one roof. You’ve witnessed our most passionate arguments and our most passionate love. Moments that became memories all because you were here to hold the space for us, and our evolution.
In the time that we lived away from you, we decided on new dreams for our family and you gave us your final gift… in letting you go, we are able to grab hold of our new journey of adventure. And that’s where we are today, dear home. Your new owners will move in, in a few days and you will be ours no longer. The physical presence that has held us on this street for over 20 years will officially be over, but the memories will always remain.
I couldn’t stop the tears dear home, you’ve been so good to us. We are so grateful for the opportunity to grow within your walls and you have embraced us with an acceptance I know will be hard to replace.
I hope your new beginning is wonderful. I hope you are looked after the way you deserve to be. I hope your new family enjoys long lunches on the patio watching the children splashing in the pool like we did on so many occasions. I hope your floors once again know the pitter-patter of little feet and that you witness great love and great moments. We wish you only the best.
Here’s to NEW adventures.