So this house has been like a bandaid covering a wound. What I realized this week when the bandaid was tugged on (the new contract on the house) that the wound isn't fully healed.
We put the house on the market back in July, and NO ONE has looked at it. We've dropped the price, griped about it not being shown, dropped the price again, griped, dropped, you get it. I AM A TRUE BELIEVER IN GOD'S TIMING THOUGH, and knew that he was in control of the timing of the sale. As Christmas approached, I realized that we were probably being protected from what I am experiencing right now...
I am sad to know that the only house I have ever known (other than the one I own now) is about to be gone. Suddenly the memories are flooding my every waking moment. It makes me miss everything a thousand times more. I want to do homework on the playroom stairs again, unload Thursday evening groceries into the pantry. I want to lay in bed with mom on Monday morning hoping for five more minutes of weekend together. I want dad to come pour ice water on my hand to wake me up when I am being a pain, or play baby dolls upstairs with Erin again. I want to swing in the backyard, or mow, or weed the garden. I want to bake cookies and fill the dining room table with them for Christmas. I want to see the sunlight fill the front room on Saturday morning.