It’s funny how a house becomes a home.
How spaces are filled with things
And, as I pack away my belongings, looking to a brighter future for my fiance and I, I can’t help but feel a sadness for what I’m leaving behind.
Like how Pudge, my French Bulldog, can’t walk down the stairs because they’re too steep, so we have to carry him.
Or how my cats tight-rope walk across the balcony, even though it’s a little shaky.
How about when we used to bump our heads because of the slanted ceilings, but now, somehow, our bodies have adapted and bending my head ever so slightly becomes a natural movement without a thought.
I know I’ll miss the way my future mother-in-law goes out of her way to fill the house with bacon smells on the weekend mornings and laundry fumes by before the next week begins.
I can’t imagine not stealing a hug from my niece any time I please.
It pains me to think about my fiance not being in the same room as me when I’m sleeping…because he’s videogaming all night.
Sitting on the couch with the reminder -and smell- of coffee nearby.
There are so many things, moments, memories we have created in this place. I’m so grateful for this fraction of our lives; I will certainly miss it.
But even more than that, I know that we’re ready for the next fraction, a stepping stone, into a new place that will become our home
filled with things,