Campbell Avenue

Last Tuesday we closed on our now former house, and we spent the weekend finishing the packing and loading up all our belongings. We rented two PODS and filled them to the brim, and what didn’t fit in the PODS is now parked in my parent’s garage, or J’s parent’s horse trailer.

Today J is meeting with the buyers to give them our keys.

Yesterday, as we left the house for the last time it was heart-breakingly sad. It was empty, but it was still full of memories. I cried and cried over a silly house.

So many memories. Holidays, Christmases, gatherings. We spent our first night of marriage in that house. We brought home our baby girl to that house.

We slaved over that house. But it was a work of love, and I keep reminding myself that we rescued that house and made it a home. When we bought it, only squirrels were willing to live in it. There was no working plumbing, the gutters and soffits were falling off, the roof was caving in, and it was so disgusting that words can’t describe to you the mess.

I love the history of this home. I used to like to think about the family that built it in 1929, and what they would think of the state we found it in four years ago. I like to imagine and try to count how many families may have lived in it during its 80-year history. I like to think about how many new babies may have come home to that house.

Now, only four years later, it’s a beautiful little home once again that a new family is going to continue to make memories in.

Our work here is done.