Room to room

We went to the old house the other day to finish packing up and mow the yard.

As Chris mowed, I ran around the kitchen collecting plates and cups, throwing DVD’s and games in garbage bags to make them easier to carry. I tried to stay busy in there.

But, suddenly, I had no more dishes to pack. No more boxes for appliances that I had missed. I had packed the car back up, full of bins and boxes, making sure to grab the little basket where we keep paci’s and Caitlin’s markers and drawing paper. I was finished with my part, but Chris wasn’t.

I walked around, from room to room, inspecting what else need to be grabbed. A co-sleeper in the master bedroom, a printer in the office, small toys that had been missed during the big move. It all had to be grabbed still.

I walked around, from room to room, my fingers dragging across the still newly painted walls, looking at little islands of white or brown that had been missed. I searched walls to see if I could find the patchwork to cover holes that broke my heart. They were gone, no where to be found with my hands, but if I closed my eyes, I could still see them.

I’ve come to terms with this, I’ve said good-bye to that house, that old life. So why did it still hurt? Why did tears still sting in my eyes when I sat down in our old bedroom and remembered all the love, and all the fights? It wasn’t painful in the way that my heart burned with sadness, just a dull aching of knowing, remembering. We’ve been through so much, lots of amazing times, but so many bad times too. A year’s worth of memories are in the walls of that house, but luckily they are memories we can take with us.

It reminds me of a door, here in my brother’s house, which was a short-sale. The door under the stairs, where the garbage can and other random items are kept, was the family’s growth chart. Every time I open it, I see the lines marking the height of the children, their names and the dates. They had to leave in such a rush, she had to leave it behind. It breaks my heart that they left something, something that just a memory can’t contain so easily. I wish I could give them back that door, those memories.

I wonder, when they were packing up and preparing their move, if the wife and mother would walk from room to room. I wonder if she wanted to bring the door with her so as to not abandon those memories within the walls that were already keeping so many years of her life. I wonder if she’s come to terms with it, and if she’s okay today.


3 Responses

  1. Oh, this breaks my heart. Because I just did this last night…said goodbye to lots and lots of memories. Moving is just the worst.

  2. Oh honey. That is sad. I think that I wouldn’t have the ka who nas to walk into my home after someone else moved in it. It would be hard.
    Hugs :)

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