Congratulations on the purchase of your new home. I can imagine the initial unfamiliarity of residing in a house where strangers once lived. There inevitably will be remnants of those who occupied this space before you.

On the surface, you’ll likely come across fragments of dog hair and maybe a stray lego that got wedged underneath the baseboard. You might notice a small dent in the wall of the 2nd bedroom from where the rocking chair would hit. I swear it got a little deeper with each sleepless night I spent in there. Where family pictures were once proudly hung, remain shadows of rectangles and squares. My magic eraser contended with most of the drawings that my son colored on the wall, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you notice the delicate outline of a smiley face here and there.

This house is a vessel of some of my most cherished memories. My husband and I shared our first kiss in this house. It was on the living room floor. He was a bachelor living here alone and didn’t have much furniture. The walls were adorned with beer posters and he had a two seater outdoor patio set as a dining room table. A year after we started dating, I moved in and the decor became less saturated in Miller High Life and classic cars and a little more warm and fuzzy.

6 months after moving in together, we brought a golden retriever puppy home. The fenced in yard provided a perfect oasis for Max to run and explore. He spent many sunny days digging holes and rainy ones rolling in mud. We planted 3 peach trees along the boundary line, but no evidence of that exists as Max intently ripped out each and every one of them. There is a small hole in the fence where he would poke his nose through to spy on the neighbors. We’ve patched up many parts of that fence throughout the years, but always left that perfectly snout shaped gap. Max was the source of a lot of impromptu home improvements. He liked to chew things and test his boundaries. He undoubtedly conditioned us for parenthood.

We had our first child in December of 2018. Our hearts had grown, but suddenly our house felt small. Our living room was inundated with all kinds of infant sleeping contraptions and apparatuses. I felt imprisoned by high chairs and baby gates. We soon adjusted to the new demands compromising the space in our home and I found myself appreciating the close proximity. I could hear Brandon in the nursery reading Dr. Seuss while I folded laundry in the other room. I could cook dinner and almost always feel immersed in the world of my son’s imaginary play as this 900 square feet had confined us in a way that our world’s would always overlap. I felt in tune and connected with the people in this house at all times.

There is a warmth that generates organically throughout this house. I believe that the charming features and unique characteristics could be attributed to its welcoming energy as well as the love and life that has inhabited its walls for over 10 years. Some of our happiest moments have occurred under this roof. Brandon proposed to me in our bedroom. He was in his underwear. I always anticipated this moment to include a flash mob and a fire works display but some how his intimate version of a proposal was even more sentimental and special. We brought our first born son home from the hospital to this house and sent him off to kindergarten from the very same threshold. We’ve experienced milestone birthdays and the magic of christmas amongst these walls. We’ve slow danced in the kitchen followed by nerf gun wars in the living room. We’ve enjoyed countless meals from filet mignon to bowls of cheerios on the couch. We’ve built memories out of blanket forts and lego towers. We have laughed and we have lived. The happiness and love that resides in this house has sustained us through some of our darkest times.

We always knew we would outgrow the house. And we tried for many years to do so. I got pregnant with our second child and it ended tragically. I ended up having an ectopic pregnancy which resulted in the loss of our baby as well as my fallopian tube. Our grief persisted as our loss was followed by infertility. I can’t tell you how many negative pregnancy tests I have stared at from the toilet of that bathroom. Or how many times I’ve gotten in that shower to muffle the sound of my violent tears. That bathroom is a sacred space and the keeper of some of my most vulnerable moments.

Our home remained a safe space as we navigated these trying times. It kept us grounded. It kept us strong and our love close. The way the sun radiates through the picture window casting golden hues across the living room instills a sense of peace and safety embracing you in warmth. Laughter permeates through the nooks and crannies of the house and imbeds itself in the voids of your heart. Super market flowers stand on the kitchen counter with dignity and can contend with any bad day.

Our little house kept us accountable. It defied the silent treatment and personal space. It forced us to have the tough conversations and to hug it out. It required us to operate as a unit. Sometimes this even meant scheduling bathroom time and compromising over closet space. This house has encouraged us to be resourceful and creative. It has dictated the way in which we function as family.

Moving out of our house will mark the end of an era for us. We will be occupying a brand new space that will eventually evolve into our home just as this space will for you. We are moving all of our furniture and things out of the house but we hope that the love that we have fostered here will always reside among these walls. We hope that the many blessings and abundance we have experienced here will impart good fortune and wellness into your life. We hope that you can bring color to the flower beds in the front because I never had a green thumb. We hope that blueberry bush continues to render hundreds of ripe fat blueberries and that the backyard will recover from all of the holes our dogs have dug. We hope that the neighbors will wave to you as they drive by and that the mailman will quickly get to know you by first name. We hope that this house remembers our hope and perseverance more than our pain. We hope that your hard times are alleviated by the warmth and comfort of this space. We hope that this house serves you as honorably as it has us. We hope this assists your transition into this foreign area. We are strangers, but there is something deeply intimate about transferring this sacred space to you. We wish you nothing but happiness on this new and exciting endeavor.

Welcome home.