I love old homes. I love the stories attached to the people that have lived there over the years.
This past weekend, we packed up our things and moved from a lovely home filled with memories and stories from the best 6 years of our lives.
We moved into our home six years ago with a one year old daughter. We left this weekend with three daughters and a fourth on the way.
I don't feel sad about leaving, just nostalgic. The tree I painted in the girls' room was completed just before we got the call from social services about a newborn babe who needed a home. Our little Luciana is now adopted and part of our family. The circle around the kitchen and dining room has been run thousands of times by our kiddos and our friends' children over the years. Our dining room has had countless meals and wonderful conversations with family and friends. We've formed friendships that will last a lifetime. Our home has been filled with people, concerts, dancing, and laughter.
We dropped the keys on Saturday evening to another family who will love and appreciate this home as we have. We are excited for the memories they will create there.
Our "new" home has a lot of work to do yet, but there is already a story there that we are excited to add to. One of our new neighbors grew up in the yellow brick home and he passed on a photo to me of a wonderful memory:
This is his mother escorted out of the home by her father on her wedding day on June 28, 1947. We are so fortunate to have a home already filled with beautiful memories.
