Love grows best in little houses.

There is no doubt that 2020 will go down in history as a terrible year for many. But for my parents it will also be the year that ends a chapter that began almost 50 years ago – THEY’VE MOVED.

It is sad, I am sad. I knew today would eventually come when they called a month ago to tell me they received an offer. I cried, big fat ugly tears, all the while trying not to let hear me. Those tears were bitter sweet. We wanted them to move closer to us. We wanted them to enjoy the rest of their lives together, not interrupted by having to maintain a house and yard. They are, as I am, excited for their new chapter and look forward to all their adventures. But my heart aches.

Today as I walked into that empty house, I wasn’t prepared for the echo that was normally masked by their furniture and belongings. I sat on the floor in the living room and allowed myself to be surrounded by the empty and remembering a great many memories. After a few moments I took pictures, lots and lots of pictures. I took pictures of everything – it’s almost comical the things I took pictures of. The whole time saying to myself, “oh, don’t forget that and take a picture of that”. I never want to forget the little house at 8620 Stephens Rd. There is a lot of my family history in this section of Piper’s Subdivision. This house has been a beacon either directly or indirectly for my mother’s whole life, she was born in and raised in the house right next door, the same house where my grandma took her last breath over 22 years ago. 8620 sits right around the corner from the local store that my dad’s Grandma and Grandpa Banwarth owned and operated.

For my whole life this little house has been the one place I was always welcome – no questions asked. The first place I went when my children were born. The place where I took my future husband to meet my parents for the first time. The final resting place of all of our childhood pets. As I backed out of the driveway, I didn’t just say good-bye to my childhood home, I was saying good-bye to an area that defined my childhood and a lot of people and places that I hold so many memories of. Eventually, I will get the urge to drive by and check up on 8620, but for now, I will wait.

My only hope that it still stands when my descendants decide to go hunting for my childhood home, the same way I do for many of my ancestors.

2 thoughts on “Love grows best in little houses.

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