My aunt and uncle started renting a ranch-style brick country home the year I started sixth grade. I remember that because we moved in right at the start of the school year and my little boyfriend at the time lived down the road a few miles.
It was the kind of country vibe that our family fit well into. We road our bikes up and down the long gravel driveway from the house to the grain bins and back. We played kickball in the huge yard out front. I remember one season my uncle borrowed our school’s pitching machine and brought it out to the yard so he could shoot me some outfield fly balls. The athlete in me loved it.
This is the home I know better than any other. The home I’ve spent the most hours of my life in.
Us kids spent many nights sitting on our beds in the basement chatting, laughing, bickering…
It was the place our family was raised in. We developed and overcame and powered through so much together in that home and I’m sad that the house will one day be just a memory of a time when all of us were together.
You never know the power of a moment until it’s just a memory.
This was the house we had to bury our first dog at.
The house where I learned to drive and later got in trouble for breaking curfew.
I got ready for school dances and graduations in the tiny bathroom with my six siblings.
Most of my education was earned while studying in that house.
So many memories made under that roof…
My uncle has been living there for more than ten years. By now, he could paid off a house of his own, but instead he’s shoved tens of thousands of dollars into RENT.
I completely understand and support his decision, but it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.
We were all supposed to get together Saturday to celebrate our last holiday in the house. My uncle is leaving right after Christmas.
Of course….. Someone in the house tested positive- ruining our opportunity to reminisce in our home all together for the last time.
I’m heartbroken over it.