It's such a cliche question that is as old as time. Still, it weighs heavily on my mind as the home I grew up in is now on the market. Whether it holds too many memories or is simply an aging house that is too large for a family that has gone from 5 to 2, my mom and grandpa are selling the wood-paneled home of my childhood.
I remember sleeping on the floor of the piano room after my parent's split...the summer spent doubling the size of the house...boyfriends throwing rocks at my bedroom window so I could let them in (this is pre-cell phone people)...making sun tea on the front porch. I haven't lived in this home for more than 12 years; however, it is always there. Its existence is a comfort, my port in the storm. It has been my backup plan for years if this crazy world ever decides to swallow me whole.
The idea of another family living in our home, redesigning our memories, is definitely hard to swallow. However, I'm working on being more selfless in the whole endeavor, so check back with me to see how I fair.
