By: Jessica Hart
Updated: Feb. 19, 2021
Originally Published: April 14, 2014
We’ve decided to sell our house and relocate. I can already hear your thoughts—you’re a bit envious, right? The idea of packing up a home filled with memories after living there for six years, while wrangling three kids sounds like a thrilling adventure.
Let me assure you, it’s a mixed experience.
“The aim is to present it as if it’s the buyers’ home, not yours,” a real estate agent bluntly informs me.
So, I get the carpets shampooed, wipe down the walls, and scrub away the remnants of our lives. The nail polish stains, the sticky fingerprints, the rogue crayon marks—they all (thankfully) come off. I organize the closets, donate furniture, toss out expired snacks, collect stray coins (courtesy of my husband), Lego pieces (my kids’ collection), and travel-sized lotions (my own). I pack away baby clothes and sleep sacks that my little ones have outgrown.
Then I stumble upon memories.
There’s an old photo my husband took of me just hours before he proposed. I’m absorbed in thought, gazing at a VHS case in a video rental store (remember those?), weighing my options for the evening’s entertainment (ah, the carefree twenties), with a flat stomach (remember that?). I linger on it for a moment before deciding to leave it out on my dresser.
I stow away picture frames filled with images of my boys—some depicting those adorable, chubby-cheeked infants I can barely recall, others showcasing the mischievous grins of toddlers. I hide away their beloved bedtime stories in drawers, pack up the “daily sheets” chronicling their daycare adventures—I’ve kept every single one. The water table? It’s out by the curb on trash day, reminding me of the joyful afternoons the boys spent playing with it until this winter’s chill cracked it in half.
I clean out my closet and bid farewell to the skinny jeans. It feels freeing. I finally toss out my law school outlines, but I save that naïve, optimistic college paper on The Social Contract. Tucked neatly under the bed, of course.
Letting go of the rocking chair my mother used when I was a baby is bittersweet. After all, one arm is broken. It’s time to move on.
I scrub and tidy, striving to make it appear as if no one ever lived here. Yet, the truth is, we did.
This is the carpet where my sons learned to crawl and walk. These hallways are where we rocked our newborns to sleep. That rooftop deck? We ran to it when my spirited firstborn wouldn’t settle down and needed the calming evening breeze.
See that scratch on the kids’ bedroom door? That’s from a tantrum my son threw, kicking it hard enough to knock it into the bookcase. And those scuff marks on the kitchen cabinets? Evidence of the boys racing their bikes through our home to burn off energy during long, dreary winter days.
This staircase? It’s where I lay during my first labor. From that top step, we timed those sweet early contractions that changed everything.
That front door? We stepped through it with each of our babies as we brought them home from the hospital just four blocks away. The rocking chair in the corner? I nursed all three of my sons there while “Baby Mine” played softly in the background.
Now, we prepare to move forward. I know it will be good for us—a new state, new schools, new jobs, new friendships, a fresh chapter. Sometimes, a new beginning is just what you need.
Yet, I will genuinely miss these playgrounds! These familiar streets where my kids know the route to school by heart. The way we can barely walk to the corner without bumping into a friend or neighbor—intertwining lives that have become so familiar.
Through this cleaning and purging process, I’ve realized it’s not about the four walls of this house. It’s not the bricks and mortar that create a home. What we’ve built here—our family, our memories—they will come with us. It’s not about the physical belongings or the locations. They shape who we are, and we carry that with us wherever life takes us.
We’ll do our best to make this house look like someone else’s home. But for now? It’s ours, and in some way, it always will be.
For those embarking on their own family journeys, if you’re interested in exploring home insemination options, you’ll want to check out Cryobaby at Home Insemination Kit and this comprehensive 21-piece kit for your needs. Additionally, for more insights on pregnancy, Healthline offers excellent resources on in vitro fertilization that can be invaluable.
In summary, moving is not just about changing locations; it’s a profound transition filled with memories and hopes for the future. We take what we cherish with us, creating new memories along the way.
Keyphrase: Moving and Moving On
Tags: [“home insemination kit” “home insemination syringe” “self insemination”]