The House That Built Me

On Sunday, my brother, father, and I all sat on a couch, the lone piece of furniture in an empty house. We said goodbye to the rooms filled to the brim with 25 years of memories. We had spent many hours moving furniture out and filling box after box. My mom and sister had already walked out the door for the last time. We were prepared, but the moment was still bittersweet. Our eyes filled with tears and our voices were caught in our throats.

The physical boxes were packed, but we took a moment to mentally pack up. We packed up the the countless holiday meals and birthday parties spent in the dining room. We packed the many hours spent remodeling a kitchen: picking the best paint colors, wandering around Menards every weekend for months, my mom painting each cabinet by hand. We remembered the railing where three kids sat at desks doing homework and watched TV while promising to at least try a bite of the vegetables on our plate. We packed up the bathroom, once highlighted by green carpet until after a spill of pink nail polish; a place where hair was curled and crimped and straightened.

Loaded were the stairs which had caused carpet burns from all the times we sledded down on our stomachs. Boxed up was the top step where Max watched over the house. We wouldn't forget the hallway that staged wars of Power Rangers, Beanie Babies, and Pokemon cards. We cleaned out each perfect hiding spot for hide-and-seek. We packed the rooms where we had slept and cried and listened to music at ear-splitting levels, the ones that transitioned from Disney themes to bright colors of Husker red, hot pink, and blue. I took the sunporch with me; the one that held so many toys, the one where I first became a teacher to Barbie dolls, Betty Spaghetti, and a collection of zoo animals.

Outside the house was packed in too. The circle of grass that was once shaded by a trampoline. The splashes and squeals of a pool where we played Marco Polo and mermaids. The patio that sometimes smelled of roasting marshmallows. We could never forget to pack our loyal pets Comanche and Chelsea, though they physically remain buried in the yard. The treasure hunts, climbs up the fort, games of HORSE, and even a summer turtle sanctuary came with us.

The good news is we fit it all. Each of our minds held the precious cargo with ease. In the years to come, our home will transition. We know it is capable of doing so. We've seen it. But the memories will remain. Thank you to the house that built me.