We’ve decided to sell our house and embark on a new journey. I can almost hear your thoughts: you’re envious of the prospect of packing up a home filled with memories from the last six years, especially with three kids in tow. Let me assure you, it’s a whirlwind of emotions.
“The aim is to make it feel like it belongs to the potential buyers, not to you,” a real estate agent bluntly informs me.
I start by getting the carpets cleaned and wiping down the walls, removing all traces of nail polish, crayon marks, and the sticky fingerprints that have accumulated. It’s a relief to see it all come off.
Next, I organize the closets, donate old furniture, and discard expired snacks—applesauce and breakfast bars long forgotten. I gather stray coins (thanks, husband), Lego pieces (the kids’), and mini moisturizers (mine). The baby clothes and sleep sacks that no longer fit my growing boys are carefully tucked away until I stumble upon cherished memories.
Among the clutter, I discover an old photo my partner took just before he proposed. I’m lost in thought, staring at a VHS case in a video rental store, pondering what film to choose for that night. I seem so carefree and flat-stomached, a reminder of our youth. I linger over it for a while, ultimately deciding to leave it on my dresser.
I pack away picture frames that showcase my boys’ adorable, plump-cheeked baby faces and their cheeky toddler smiles. Their favorite bedtime stories find a home in drawers, while I store away the “daily sheets” from daycare—I’ve saved every single one. The water table, cracked from the winter chill, sits by the curb awaiting trash pickup, and I can’t help but reflect on the joy it brought my children.
In an act of liberation, I purge my closet, saying goodbye to the skinny jeans I once loved. I finally toss out my old law school notes, but I can’t part with that overly optimistic college essay on The Social Contract—safely tucked beneath my bed, of course.
I also let go of the rocking chair my mother cherished when I was a baby. It’s time.
As I scrub and declutter, I try to erase all signs of our presence here. But we’ve created a life in this house. It’s where my sons experienced their first “tummy time,” learned to crawl, and took their first steps. These hallways cradled my newborns to sleep, and that roof deck? It’s where we found solace on warm summer nights when my spirited firstborn needed to cool down.
The front stoop holds memories of quiet maternity leave days, while the scratch on the kids’ bedroom door serves as a reminder of a tantrum gone awry. The marks on the kitchen cabinets tell stories of bike rides through our home when winter kept us indoors.
That staircase? It’s where I labored with my firstborn, counting and timing those sweet, early contractions. And each of my children came home through that front door, fresh from the hospital just four blocks away, to the rocking chair where I nursed them while “Baby Mine” played softly in the background.
Now, we’re moving forward. It’s a new beginning in a new state with fresh schools, jobs, and friendships. A new chapter awaits us, and while I know it’s a positive change, I can’t help but feel nostalgic for these playgrounds and familiar streets. My kids know their way home from school by heart, and we can hardly walk to the corner without bumping into a friend or neighbor.
As I clean and declutter, I’ve come to realize that it’s not about the physical structure. What we’ve built here—our family and the countless memories—will accompany us. It’s not about possessions or locations; it’s about the experiences that shape who we are, and those experiences we take with us, no matter where we go.
We’ll make this house look like someone else’s home, but for now? It’s ours, and in many ways, it always will be.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the emotional journey of moving from a home filled with memories, the challenges of packing, and the realization that home is where the family and memories reside, not just the physical space. As the family prepares for a new beginning, they cherish the moments spent in their current home, understanding that the essence of their experiences will travel with them.