We are in the process of selling our home and relocating. You might find yourself feeling envious, imagining that packing up a house where you’ve spent six years—especially with three children—is a delightful adventure. I can tell you, however, it’s a complex experience.
“The objective is to present it as a space for potential buyers, not a reflection of your own life,” a real estate agent bluntly states.
I arrange for the carpets to be cleaned, scrub the walls to remove dirt, and thankfully, the nail polish stains, greasy fingerprints, and stray crayon marks all come off. I organize the closets, donate furniture, discard expired snacks, and gather various items: stray coins (from my spouse), Lego pieces (from the kids), and travel-sized lotions (from me). I also set aside baby clothes and sleep sacks that our children have outgrown, only to stumble upon a flood of memories.
I discover an old photograph taken by my partner shortly before proposing. My gaze is focused downward as I ponder over a VHS case in a video rental store (remember those?), lost in thought about what to watch that night. I look at it for a moment longer than I intended, and for reasons unknown, I leave it on my dresser.
I carefully store away framed pictures of my boys—some showcasing their cherubic baby faces, others revealing the cheeky grins of toddlers. I tuck their beloved bedtime stories into drawers and pack up the “daily sheets” that document their daycare years—I’ve saved every one. I place the water table by the curb on trash day, reminiscing about the joy it brought my boys, now cracked from the winter chill.
I clean out my closet, parting with skinny jeans, finding it liberating. I finally dispose of my law school notes but keep a college essay that reflects my youthful optimism about The Social Contract, safely tucked under the bed.
I decide to let go of the rocking chair my mother used when I was a baby, reasoning that it’s time as one of its arms is broken. I continue to tidy, scrub, and conceal, attempting to make it seem as though we never lived here. But the memories linger.
This carpet witnessed my sons’ “tummy time,” and their first steps. These hallways were where we calmed our newborns to sleep. That roof deck was our escape, where my firstborn would settle in the gentle summer breeze. There’s the front stoop where I spent my maternity leave days, both lonely and lovely.
The scratch on the kids’ bedroom door? That’s from a tantrum. The marks on the kitchen cabinets? Evidence of my sons riding their bikes indoors during long winter days. This staircase is where I lay during my first labor, counting the early contractions that marked the beginning of our family.
That front door? We walked through it with each of our newborns, bringing them home from the hospital just a few blocks away. The rocking chair in the corner? I nursed all three of my sons there while “Baby Mine” played softly in the background.
Now, we prepare to move on. It promises to be beneficial—a new state, new schools, new jobs, new friends, a new chapter. A fresh start has its merits.
Yet, I will deeply miss these playgrounds, the familiar streets, and the way my children know the route from home to school by heart. It’s difficult to walk just a short distance without encountering a friend or neighbor—they have all become like family.
Through this process of cleaning and purging, I have learned that it’s not about the physical structure. It’s not the house that makes a home. What we have built together—our family, our memories—will accompany us. It’s not about possessions or locations; it’s about the experiences that shape us, which we carry with us wherever life takes us.
We will strive to make this house appear as if it belongs to someone else. For now, however, it is still ours, and in some sense, it always will be.
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Summary
The author reflects on the bittersweet experience of selling their family home, detailing the memories associated with each space and object. The narrative emphasizes that a home is defined by the love and memories created within it, rather than its physical walls. As the family prepares to move, they acknowledge the importance of carrying these cherished experiences into their new chapter, highlighting the emotional journey of relocation.