Moving Day

One last look, one final sweep . I catch a glimpse of tiny footprints on the laminate floor (that I just mopped). I pause, and I feel a lump begin to form in my throat. Quickly, I close the door. Close my eyes. Breathe.

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For nearly nine years, this place has been home. That’s three times longer than I have ever lived anywhere else. This house is the only place my boys have called home.

As much as I know that home isn’t really a physical place, I can’t help but feel that this place is more than that. We’ve left our footprints on it after all.

As I turn the lock and close the door, I understand that I’ll most likely never pass over this threshold again. Closing one door, but opening another. It’s bitersweet. It’s hard. But I know that there are good things waiting for my family. Goodbye, little house.

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