28 years ago my parents made the move into a beautiful house on Wynnewood Road. Less than four months later they brought me into their house and it became their home.
To me, our home was like a family member. It was there during the good times, the bad, during milestones and during every special moment we shared including the morning where I left at Ms. Jacob and came back to visit as Mrs. Listanski.
When my parents told me they were moving I felt like I was going through a bad breakup. How could I ever part ways with the only home I ever knew?
For as long I can remember, my parents have been talking about moving but never acted on it.
High school wasn’t the right time. Those are the years where girl teenage friendships are already stressful enough. My parents gave me the incredibly generous gift of paying for college so that certainly wasn’t the right time for them. Then, after college, I returned home and happily reclaimed my childhood bedroom. So that wasn’t the right time either.
After I moved back home it only took me a year to get engaged to my college sweetheart and we moved into an apartment exactly 2 turns and 6 minutes away from my childhood home. I thought to myself, this is it, they are finally going to make the jump…but they didn’t.
Fast forward three years ahead and I purchased my first home, ironically 3 turns and 4 minutes away from my childhood home. I guess they realized that I wasn’t going to come back home. It was time.
They listed their home and it sold in THREE days. Today the time has come where they finally pack up, move out and give a new family a chance to make this incredible house a home and as sad as I am I couldn’t be happier to watch them move on to a new chapter of their life in a beautiful townhouse they designed.
Today I saw one last goodbye to my room and one last goodbye to Wynnewood road.
Do you remember how it felt when you had to say goodbye to your childhood home? What was it like for you?