I've lived in the same house for about 13 years now and sadly, it's time to move on. Now that my mom has two kids in college, another already graduated and only a 13-year-old at home, there's no need for so much space. I understand why we have to go--things are falling apart, bills are piling up and it's just too much room, but that doesn't mean I like it.

That house has been my sanctuary for as long as I can remember. It was always the place I ran back home to after school every day. It's what I longed to see as I drove down my street after being away at school for a couple of months. My room was the definition of who I was; the walls striped green, bookshelves holding some of my favorite books and little trinkets and memories scattered everywhere. Packing all of that up, my whole childhood, was devastating.

When you move, you have to decide what is important enough to take with you, and what needs to be tossed out so that there is less to haul over to the new house. My family members, every single one of us, are hoarders. We save absolutely everything from old magazines to baby teeth, to birthday cards over a decade old. It's disgusting, really. Yet when it came to throwing stuff out, we still couldn't bring ourselves to get rid of a lot of what we really should have gotten rid of.

I know it's not the house that's home, but rather it's my family that's my home. However, it still stinks to know that a new family will be living in the place I considered home for so long. I hope they are able to make just as many memories in that house as my family did, and I hope they love it at least half as much as we did. The next time I come back from school I'll be pulling into a different driveway and I'm just not sure how that'll feel yet, but one thing I do know is my family isn't going anywhere and that's what really matters.