To the house that nurtured and built me,

As I pack up the ever-growing pile of dorm decorations and school supplies sitting in the corner, I'm struck with the knowledge I'll be leaving you so soon. I know "you can always come home" but I'm also realizing it'll never quite be the same. So here is some thank you's and some memories to look back on.

Thank you for letting four-year-old me make cookies with mom in the kitchen and not minding when I got flour and cookie dough everywhere.

Thank you for acting as the ultimate playground for my little brother and me. Thank you for holding our abandoned monopoly games safe and for tolerating the endless Nerf gun wars. An extra special thank you for always giving me good hiding places during crucial games of hide-and-go-seek.

Thank you for hosting our (almost) nightly family dinners and bringing us closer together.

Thank you for allowing all the eyeliner smudges on my bathroom mirror. I was 13 and didn't know when enough was enough.

Thank you for not minding me slamming my bedroom door when I was 14 and mad at mom and dad. I was a little dramatic, and it was definitely unnecessary. But my bedroom was always my safe place during my middle school angst phase, so thank you.

Thank you for keeping the light on while I studied late into the night. And I'm sorry for all the times I frustratedly threw my backpack on the ground.

Thank you for keeping me safe in my bed with blankets and warmth during insecure teenage nights. Thank you for letting me cry as much as I could in peace and comfort.

Thank you for not judging me during my mini dance parties while I get dressed (I'm not sure the rest of the world is ready for that yet).

Thank you for tolerating my best friend and me get ready for prom in my bedroom. I'm still finding fake eyelashes on my floor that we'd given up on.

Thank you for not making (too much) noise when I got back home a little later than I should have.

Thank you for being the safest, warmest childhood home I could ask for. I'm so grateful for all the memories your walls hold.

This isn't a goodbye, just a see you soon.