If you were lucky enough to live in the same house for your entire life you understand just how attached you can become to it. Your childhood home builds you, shapes you, completes you, and, in a way, it is you. From first steps to first heartbreaks, this house as seen it all. Every corner of every room holds a memory dear to you. And, just as you're about to pack up and leave it behind for someone else to discover, you realize just how important your home has been in your life. You realize that it's not just a house, it's your best friend.
When I was little I believed that my pets would live forever. They were too special and cherished to die. I felt the same about my house. I never thought that the day would come when I would have to say goodbye. So, when my parents told me that we would be buying a new house down the street, it felt like a piece of my heart shriveled up.
We moved in to our pre-Civil War home when I was just three years old. I remember how big it seemed back then. There was so much room for growth and adventure. My house has seen parts of my life that nobody else has seen. It's seen those nights when I would sneak out of the house to go for a midnight walk, all those times when I danced awkwardly in my bedroom as a graceless teenager, and the nights when I cried myself to sleep because of some stupid boy who I gave too many chances to. It has seen me dressed in those gawky '90s turtle necks. It has seen me dressed for my best friend's funeral, in my white prom dress, and in my well-earned graduation gown. It has sheltered me in the very best and worst times of my life.
When you live in a house for that long you learn just as many secrets about it as it learns about you. You learn where the best hiding places are for hide-and-go-seek, you learn which squeaky steps you should avoid when you're trying to sneak up the stairs, and you figure out things like which knots in the floorboards can be popped out and used for secret storage. Even as you get older and those things become irrelevant they are still engraved in your brain.
When you first find out that you're moving, you're flooded with emotions and memories. You become angry at the thought of someone new living in your home, you get a little scared trying to imagine yourself living somewhere else, and you feel frustrated because even a lifetime wouldn't be long enough to spend in that house. Basically, you're an emotional mess and you couldn't even begin to describe that feeling of loss to someone who hasn't been through it themselves. The song "The House That Built Me" takes on a whole new meaning and even Miranda Lambert has been known to choke up during live performances of it.
The packing process is probably the most painful part of the entire move. Parts of the walls and floors that you have never seen before are exposed, you find things that you've been missing for years, boxes infiltrate every room, and your footsteps begin to echo in a whole new way. Things that once had a specific place in your home and in your heart are packed away and you know that none of it will ever be the same again. Without all the stuff inside the house begins to look more and more like an empty shell of what used to be your most comforting place.
Moving out of the house that I grew up in was easily one of the most heart-wrenching things that I have ever had to go through. Unfortunately, it's something that most people have to do at some point in their lives. It's just something that has to be done. Maybe I will become just as attached to another house someday, but I know that, in my heart, there will always be that small ache and longing for home.
