The end of an era

Photo by Jamie Templeton on Unsplash

I keep randomly bursting in to tears.

"So what's new?" I hear you ask.

Yeah, I admit, I cry over bloody everything (except my kids starting school for some reason). But these last few days I have been in floods of tears as it is the last week I will ever live in this house. We are saying goodbye to Casa de Glow.

While we will still technically own it for a month or so (anyone wanna buy it?), we are bidding a very fond farewell to a home that is full of so many memories.

The memories are not just these past eleven years that we have lived here, they go back much further.

See, the house our children were brought home to, and took their first steps in, is also the house I was brought home to and took my first steps in. I will go so far as to say the house my kids were conceived in is also the same house I was conceived in... and now you have that visual in your head, you're welcome. Ew.

My parents built this house in the 1970s, and when we moved out in the 1980s they kept it as a rental property. Thanks, War Services Home Loans.

When MG and I were looking to purchase our first house, my Dad suggested we buy this place off them. In all its 70s glory; purple tiles, yellow benchtops, and brown wallpaper. So we did. It wasn't the best house, and it wasn't in the best suburb, but it was going to be a foot in the real estate door.

I have memories of birthday parties here; of playing bicycle taxis in the backyard; of Santa coming up the street every year and throwing lollies from the back of a ute; of first day of school photos being taken in the backyard; of sitting on my Nanna's lap at the dining table; being with my other grandparents outside at Christmas. Sure there are some not so fabulous memories, but the passage of time has firmly cemented rose coloured glasses over them.

Over the years we remodelled the whole place. It no longer looks like it does in my memories. Firstly, we ripped out the kitchen and bathroom to put in a more functional (and yes, waaaay more aesthetically pleasing version). We overhauled the bedroom with a fully customised his and hers walk in wardrobe with hidden shoe storage that would make many a clotheshorse foam at the mouth.

Then four years ago, we added a major extension. We got the call telling us of our final council approval as I was labouring in the dining room (though I didn't think I was in labour at the time), and the bobcats rolled in when Bobbin was only four days old.

The little cupboard sized house with cardboard box sized bedrooms was transformed in to an open plan home with generous bedrooms, an extra bathroom (complete with bathtub so big I could almost float in it), toilet, and a walk in linen cupboard that was the envy of everyone who saw it... and a lot of people saw it because I would squeal "YOU HAVE TO SEE MY LINEN CUPBOARD!" whenever we had visitors. You know you're an adult when you place a high value on a fabulous linen cupboard.

We added a massive patio. And I mean massive. Because the house was still technically small (although it now felt huge to us!), the patio became an outdoor room. The kids would be out there no matter what the weather was like because it offered so much protection, and with the big screen MG installed, it was the perfect place for outdoor movies nights with friends and neighbours.

Bit by bit we transformed the back yard with turf, veges, natives and trees that are now established and bearing tonnes of fruit. We poured our hearts, souls, sweat (mostly MG's), tears (mostly mine) and a fuck tonne of money in to this place. And now we're leaving.

My mind swirls so continuously these days I'm reaching for sea sickness tablets. Was it a waste to renovate this place? Are we making a terrible mistake by moving? What privileged worries I have.

But I keep packing. Because, well, it's a bit bloody late to change our minds now with settlement due, oh, TOMORROW!

I am not the only one who is sentimental about crap like this, but I've never done anything quite as momentous selling my childhood home, so other than stopping to have a cry every now and then, I'm not sure what else I can do. Any suggestions, including taking a teaspoon of cement, would be most welcome.

For now, I'll keep packing, and keep my fingers crossed that after complaining right now about how I'm sad to sell it, that it will actually sell fast! So, um, yeah, anyone wanna buy a house?