So we’re moving. Moving soon actually, and as we start to pack up our little house and get ready to say goodbye to it I’m realizing all of the firsts that happened in it. Little Dude and Mini Dude were both born while we lived there, they both learned to crawl and then walk there. It was beautiful wife and my first house we owned (or rather borrowed from the bank) together. It was where I made my first attempt at installing floors. It’s where we decided to never install floors ourselves again. We made new friends, and new memories galore.
I think about all of these things and then I get sad, but then I remember something a wise person once told. A house is just a place to keep your stuff. I think this is an absolutely true statement. When my parents moved to Texas from my childhood home, tears were shed, and now I’m not so sure they should have been. I still have all of the memories of that home. This time should be no different, I have hours of video (not surprisingly still on the video camera), thousand of pictures (surprisingly, not on the the camera,) all documenting our journey in our Huntington Beach abode. Now I’m looking forward to our new place, a place where I can have a backyard to play with boys in, and an actual garage to keep all the stuff, and a place where we can create new memories. Memories like this:
Our stuff will come with us, my Home though, is where my family is, and they are always with me.