On Monday, we said goodbye to our home.
It was always on loan to us. Our house comes with Peter’s position as a Head of School. In a few months, we will move into another Head’s house as he begins his position at the Taft School. But this house, Conroy house, will always be the place our kids grew up.
This is the place where they jumped in leaf piles and built snow forts and waited for the tooth fairy and learned how to identify the Big Dipper. This is the place where they cried because a big tree died and had to be cut down. This is the place where we celebrated birthdays and hosted pumpkin parties. The place where they watched movies when they were sick and climbed trees and planted flowers. This place will always be the one that holds all the memories of childhood.
And this week, we had to say goodbye.
So after we had packed up our clothes and books and toiletries and all the things we weren’t leaving for the movers, we paused. We ordered lunch from our favorite local spot and sat outside on the back patio and remembered the time the bear interrupted a prom party and the way the fox crosses the yard throughout the winter and the time when we saw an oriole.
And then we walked room to room. We noticed that William has almost outgrown his room, and that Marilee loves our shower, and that they all prefer the kitchen island over the dining room table. (see photos below)
On each floor, we prayed. We gave thanks for what we were given in that place, and we prayed for the people who will be moving in and the ones who will stay there as visitors and pass through as guests. And then we drove away, with sadness, and with thanks.
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