I've never minded moving. I become easily bored with houses, communities, surroundings. In my adult life, I've never lived in a house for more than 6 years, which was the first home Dustin and I shared together; the house where we went from dating to engaged to married, the house we brought Lily home to. I loved that house. I mean, the house itself was just a house, but it was a home. So many wonderful memories there. So many.
Then we moved to Caraway Dr.
I can't really articulate how I feel about that house.
We needed more space. In 2010, my career was in full swing and I did a lot of work from home which needed a space. Dustin was starting his art/graphic business and needed an office as well. Our 1200 sq feet was just not cutting it, especially with a 13 month old.
We swore we would never end up in "cookie-cutter suburbia", as we called it. But, it was new construction, affordable, and the size we needed. So, we bought it.
We hated the lot from day one, being backed up to a fairly busy road, but hey, it was shiny and new and OMG, the community pool and the pretty landscaping. We drank the kool-aid maybe?
A small, illogical part of my brain blames the demise of my marriage on this house. I have no basis for this except for the timing. All I know is that my marriage started going south in late 2011, so, clearly, it was the house's fault. After the first time Dustin and I took a "break" and he came back home, we tried to sell the house to no avail. I know what I was looking for. I was looking for the person I married. I was looking for happiness. Life has a funny way of guiding and politely telling you "You're not going to find what you're looking for by doing XYorZ". It was as if Life was saying, "Hey, it's not the house, dumbass. It's your husband. He doesn't want this life", only I couldn't hear that yet in mid 2013.
But I heard it loud and clear in early 2014.
There were so many painful times in that house. So much crying, wishing, hoping, praying, arguing, wondering, darkness and hopelessness.
I said goodbye to that house on Caraway two days ago. Along with it, I said goodbye to everything that was built and fell apart inside those walls. It was such a symbolic, painful goodbye, yet, I wasn't anxious or apprehensive about doing it once the day came. It felt like the right thing to do. It was time. It was necessary.
Not to say there weren't good times there:
-Lily went from toddling to a five year old and everything that encompasses.
-We tried on a couple of dogs before I fell in love with Calypso and she rescued me.
-We hosted many holidays with a lot of laughs.
-We had an ugly sweater Christmas party and we had the BEST trick-or-treating neighborhood.
-We swam for days.
-I became addicted to yoga.
Most importantly? I learned so much about myself inside of those walls.
Some or most of the pain will follow me. I'm aware. It already has but the gypsy in me needed this change. I needed a new surrounding. I needed new walls. I needed a new start.
So, goodbye, Caraway. I'm not sure I will miss you, although you were such an important chapter to my last book. You were the finale. Thank you for your lessons.
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