Since my parents signed on the dotted line and initialed the bottom of every page, I guess I should finally say goodbye. My last morning with you sticks with me like a faded Polaroid- everything slightly out of focus and discolored. Pulling away from the driveway I felt like thirteen-year-old me, unsure and fiercely emotional, was sitting in the passenger seat. How I wish I could go back one last time to see your empty shell, to kiss all of your door frames. For all intents and purposes, you are the place that raised me. You watched my big milestones unfold behind your sturdy walls; you listened to my late night calls and kept all of my important secrets. (For the love of JESUS let’s keep those between us, ok?)
You are more than just a house to us. You are our forever home. You kept us warm, dry, and relatively happy for ten spectacular years. You made our decade inside your walls better than we could ever have imagined. It’s so painful to say goodbye to you but then I remember that you still exist, despite my absence, and it eases the pain.
I’ve heard that your new residents are a family of three, just like us. Take care of them, ok? Be sure the little one spends his days playing in the cul-de-sac. Make sure he becomes a Bulldog and wears the Orange and Black with pride. See to it that he studies hard and fills your rooms with so much life. Introduce the parents to all the neighbors so they feel just as welcome as we did. Keep them warm. Keep them dry. Keep them relatively happy.
It is so hard to let you go, but I remind myself everyday how lucky I am to have lived in the best house, in the best subdivision, in the best town, in the best state, in the best country in the world. You helped me become me…and for that I am eternally thankful.
Love you forever and always,