Today I said goodbye to the home where I did a lot of growing up. My folks are moving house this week. Mum and Dad built this home in the late 90s when I was in high school, and we moved in when I was in Year 11.
We made lots of happy memories there – 18ths, 21sts, engagement parties, the home I left when I got married, Dad helping us learn to drive by reversing up and down the battleaxe driveway, ‘studying’ for uni exams by the pool and many family Christmases.
I can remember moving there – excited about the new place but really sentimental about leaving behind the only home I’d ever known. I even wrote a message inside my bedroom wardrobe.
Now, having moved my own home several times since getting married, saying goodbye today felt odd, but I didn’t feel the same attachment to the place. Over the years I’ve learned that home is about the people rather than the house itself. Home is where your family is. The new place (which i might add, is just around the corner from the old one) will still be the family home – just a different one.