3 years, 3 months and 11 days

So, my siblings and I are no longer home owners.

At 4:00pm Central Time, my dear sister signed the closing documents to hand over our family's home to its new owners. She said the wife was grinning, and told her how much she loved it and how excited she is to live there. The husband was no-nonsense (he's a lawyer), but all in all, they seemed genuinely excited to get started on the renovation.

I'm still a bit numb as I write this. I feel lighter than I've felt in months, and I have never been prouder of or more grateful for my sister, or more astonished at how adult my little brother is. He is 28, after all, but geez. When did that happen?

Is it weird that I suddenly want to have babies? Is it strange that selling this house has done more to tip the scales towards procreation than anything ever has in my life? Damn, I want to have a family. A family like my family. Crazy, broken, hilarious, and full of love for each other. We'll see. Maybe the shock will wear off and by tomorrow I will be back to normal.

The new normal of having no home base.

I cannot imagine what my life will be like without that house. I want to feel the moss under my feet and smell the lilac on the breeze. I feel that catch in my breath when the house first comes in to view under the overhang of branches from the driveway.

I want to hear my mom's laugh again, just once, from the kitchen when I waddle in with too many bags of laundry for a 2 day visit. I want to sit with my dad on the porch and watch the leaves rattle in the brewing storm.

My parents aren't there. I know. I know, I know. But it was the one place in the whole world that I still felt them just by walking in. Just like those movie flash backs. It really does happen like that. Seeing my dad and hearing the crinkle of his paper lunch bag as mom packed his lunch for work, or the sound of mom humming as she, well, did just about everything.

They designed it and built it themselves. Armies of friends have laughed and cried and helped under that roof. It's the only home we ever lived in. It's holy place where mom and dad both went Home for good.

Mom went Home 3 years, 3 months, and 11 days ago. And we had been living in this tight, itchy-skinned "owners of an empty home" pinball machine for exactly that long.

You can't hear me heave the big sigh I just let out, but I did. I wish that everyone could have a loving family, an awesome place to live, and as many happy memories of their home as I have. I wish that this felt a little more like some kind of beginning and a lot less like an ending. A happy ending, true enough. But still.

Time for a toast:

To 7505! A labor of love, a nest full of strange birds, a home, a homecoming, a hem around my heart.

May your new owners have as many laughs and blessings as we have had there. May they know your warmth, your protection, your quirky charm, and may they honor your steady footprint in the woods. Here's to 40 more years of "Welcome Home"s.