The Memories that make a house a home

I still remember the day we moved into this home I have come to cherish. I was 23 and Keith was 11 months old. My first house.....so adorable on this lovely street with its fenced in yard. Quickly turning the back bedroom into a Sesame Street themed boy's dream....we began our life here. We stood Keith up against the then yellow back kitchen door and pleaded with him to walk to us for a popsicle waiting in my hand,while Daddy took pictures. It worked ! The first of many firsts here...Tying shoes,riding a bike...shooting baskets in the hoop we installed on the garage.

Meeting his beloved,never far from his sight sister 3 years later,we settled into this house,trading Big Bird for dinosaurs,then Ninja Turtles ,Metallica ,Sports Illustrated pin up girls and skateboards and onto Eminem and Rap. 

Thru it all,my house held on,capturing memory after memory of our family of four...look at how tall that pine tree in the front has become ! Why, when we first moved here-we only needed 3 strings of Christmas lights.....It's time to replace the pool...more pictures......Daddy is going to build you your own ice rink..and boy did he! Skate ramps...soccer goals ...roller blade rails. The house to be.What an awesome neighborhood this was.Kids everywhere. Great neighbors. So safe. So loved.

Then.....the anxiety years....my house took on a meaning when we didn't feel so safe. New friends were coming. Keith would never let anything or anyone hurt us...but these strangers weren't his friends either. Turning onto my street after a long day now meant anxiety,not relief...whose car would I see?? Whose would I not see? What destruction inside would i fear? Exhausting,sad...mind torture. 

Through our two year battle my house was still my home. A memory in every single square inch I looked. I could tell you in a nano second if something was out of place. 

We would place Keith in rehab,refresh our home again...and breathe......He would come home and I would remember..he and Randi knocking on each others walls at night and laughing. Oh-that laugh ! Keith carrying Randi to me in the bathroom when she was 3 days old.."Mommy, her crying....." 

Reality check...Keith is 20 and Randi is 17. My house is more beautiful now. The bathroom is redone. The house is now vinyl sided and has new windows...my kids rooms are repainted and carpeted ,but in a split second,my world stopped. Keith is gone. Never to return to this house and these memories we have worked SO hard to create. 

His room? Please don't touch anything...and please don't sit in his chair....

9 years have now passed since Keith left us and 2 years ago I felt strong enough to pack up his beloved Jordans and Timberlands and have my husband put them in the garage.Why?? Noone wants them. I can't part with them. I look around his room..with his baseball hats everywhere..and I see a crib....a window-me outside talking to a neighbor and Keith crying for me to come back in. I look to the right and I see a teenager with 3 or 4 friends,listening to music and laughing hysterically over God knows what...I look straight ahead and I see a sad,lost young man desperate for help talking to his Mom. I can't pack that up. 

Yet,i now realize these are MY memories. OUR memories have made this house a HOME. I can take them with me wherever i go. The delicious memories and the not so tasty ones as well...have made this house speak to me. I love it. Every last inch. I may just be ready to let someone else now love it as much as I have. This house has served us very well and it is time for me to begin to live my life for me. I think i can try to do that.