We finally sold our LA house. I have mixed feelings about it. It's a bittersweet event for me. Mostly sweet, especially the whole "not paying two mortgages" part, but there is some sadness. This was my first home. When I pulled into the driveway for the first time, I'll admit I was not impressed. It was not a cutesy cottage with a front porch. But, the moment I stepped inside, I knew it was mine. Mrs. Berry had only listed the house the day before; there wasn't even a sign in the front yard yet, & she was busy boxing up her belongings. I walked from room to room, falling increasingly in love with the house. It was old, it had charm & character. It had a huge yard, both front & back, with loads of very old trees. It even had a screen door. I considered that God's little gift to me. I loved it & never expected to move. Of course, marrying Michael being my reason for moving away, I'm immensely glad I did! But, I have lots of happy memories there, & it's a little sad to let it go. Ginger used to chase me around this house. My sweet niece, Randi, spent the night & we splashed in the dish water, read stories, & fell asleep with a Noah's ark nightlight chasing away the darkness. I taught 3 classes of second graders while this house was my home. I met my future husband for the first time here. Ginger ran around treeing squirrels in the backyard. Small moments to be sure, but such is the stuff of life, the moments that have real meaning. I am happy that a family who adores this house as much as I now call it home. Now they can make memories of their own there, while I continue to do so here with Michael. As long as I'm with him, I'm always home. Letting go of my first home is bittersweet. But mostly sweet.
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