Goodbye Low Teeth Marks

I picture smelling hand sanitizer or sawdust and being immediately brought back to Summer 2020.

We wake up with our sheets in a knot at our feet, construction sounds whirring outside the open windows. The kids come in—sticky, sweaty, needy. Their tiny nails digging into our sleepy skin.

The time has come for us leave our little house. The new one isn’t far- not far at all. The new one is barely bigger. I know I’ll feel bad that I said I didn’t like the kitchen brick here, the faux wood floors. I’ll worry this house will feel less loved than it was. But you know what? I will come home to the new house with its bright paint and soft duvet cover and I will miss these old walls with their comically low crayon marks on the door jams. I will miss its rumpled edges, that little crack in the floor I rubbed my big toe in when I was writing. I’ll miss the evening light reflecting off the neighbor’s windows because it meant Scott was almost home. I will miss this house because we lived here—After our wedding, with our new babies, through bad news, new jobs and heartache. It’s seen a hundred beautiful and sad memories. A home is such a big thing to say goodbye to.