That sucked, part II

My mom called last night. She and Dad signed the final papers yesterday to sell the house. She said she dug up the papers from when they bought the house, and they were dated October 14, 1980. So they lacked 2 days being in the same house for 27 years.

This day has been coming for a long time; it was not a surprise. Hell, they've had their new house (5 minutes away from my sister's house) since June if not before. I went home in April to help go through things from the garage, the attic, the storage locker. So no, the sale itself was not a surprise.

But yet, hearing the news was a shock to my system. I'm very sad, and I'm sure it is because this definitively closes the chapter on my childhood. Good Lord, I'm in my late 30s, so childhood is a distant memory. I don't know why this house sale is affecting me so much.

The three of us grew up in that house. That's where we got ready for dates, proms, graduations. Where we ate breakfast together in the mornings before getting ready for school. Where we ate dinner together every night as a family.

We had so many Christmases and Thanksgivings there, even after we'd all gone to college, moved off, gotten married, had kids.

That is the first grandparents' house KB ever knew. He had been there often enough that he remembered where things were from visit to visit. When we brought him home last year for Christmas, I went in first with the camera, hoping to capture his wide-eyed expression at seeing Nana's big Christmas tree. Instead, he bypassed the tree entirely and ran straight for the toybox, which hadn't moved from its position the previous visit.

There are just so many memories. But as my mom said, she and my dad don't really have roots in that little small town anymore. A lot of memories, yes, but no roots. It is time to move on.

I just never thought I would be so sad about a house. It seems so weird to imagine other people living in that house after almost 27 years.

Goodbye, little house on Dawn Drive. I miss you already.