In November 2006 my family and I were busy packing up the house that I grew up in. My parents had sold the house. For many reasons and at the time it was hard, but I am thankful that they came to that decision. It can’t have been easy. They had lived in that house for about 20 years. They started our family in that house.
We moved out of the house at the beginning of December that year, to an apartment right in the middle of town. The same town my parents still live in. I live in the next town over.
I can still remember how the house looked when I grew up. How the stairs creek when I walked up them to get to my room. How the view from my room was.
And I remember the laughter that was in that house. Our traditions on Christmas. Or how my parents gave me a daffodil from our garden on my birthday every April. There was always one waiting for me to wake up.
I remember the dreadful green bathrooms with the green toilet and basin. And the brown floor in the kitchen.
Sometimes when I drive by my old house I wonder what has happened in these last 12 years. Have they renovated it so I would not recognise it if I went in?
Moving from the house was a chapter of my life that was ended. Moving to the city from living 15 minutes from it was a big change. That I will write about another time.
Hope you all have an amazing Thursday!