Goodbye old house

As my sister discussed yesterday, my parents are selling the house we grew up in. I'm very happy that it will finally have a family in it again as it's been empty for quite a while, but I'm upset that I won't be able to go back. That Fiona won't ever have memories of the house. That any future children we have won't ever even be inside. That the Christmas we planned this year won't happen. However, as the philosopher Dr. Andy Brown of Everwood once said, "We may give up the physical space, but we'll always have our memories." Oh Andy Brown, you are so eloquent and so wise.

I don't want to ever forget the time that my parents caught on to the fact that Tamara and I weren't actually eating our vegetables, but stuffing them in the crack between the kitchen countertop and the cabinet. Or the time I rode all the way around the subdivision on my bike with no hands and then fell down right in front of my house (I guess the scars will remind me on this one). Having my prom dates pick me up at the house and getting our photos taken in front of the old parson's table. Sleeping on my waterbed and being terrified that lightning from a summer storm was somehow going to come inside the windows and electrocute me as I slept. Playing "killer sting ray" on stilts in the vacant lot next door with my friend and all of our stuffed animals. All of our big family Christmases with the whole family over for dinner. The painstaking hours in front of the bathroom mirror trying to perfect my mall bangs. Watching bad movies over and over again with my sister all summer long and then telling my mother we were really practicing the piano all that time. Sleeping with the hall light on for weeks after reading Christine and The Shining back to back. Sitting in front of the television with my mom and working on our cross-stitch projects. Our whole herd of cats staring in at us jealously from the patio.

Anyhow, I'm going to miss you old house. I hope the new family treats you well.