Breaking Up With My House: It’s Not You, It’s Me

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moving new houseHey little house, we need to talk.

I’m just not feeling it anymore.

That’s right house. I’m breaking up with you.

On some level, you had to know this was coming. I’ve been unhappy for a while.

But here’s the thing, house, it’s not you, it’s me. Actually, it’s us. There are so many more of us than when we moved in ten years ago.

Ten years ago my husband and I had just one three-year-old daughter. We were excited to move from Central Nebraska to Central Iowa for a job opportunity. Finding the right house proved to be a long and exhausting process.

Then we found you – a beautiful, three bedroom ranch home. It was love at first sight.

You had a two car garage, a master bathroom en-suite, Formica countertops that looked a whole lot like granite, and you were almost twice the size of our first home. We were smitten.

We thought we might just love you forever.

You were new construction, so neighbors were few and far between at first, but we looked forward to developing lasting friendships as the houses grew around us.

And grow they did. New houses every month. New neighbors, new friends, and eventually new family members of our own.

Another girl filled our third bedroom. When her brother joined us three years later we were out of bedrooms and strained for storage space. Full of trepidation, we started the arduous process of finishing our basement on our own. (OK, not completely on our own – my father-in-law pitched in quite a bit.)

It was a labor of love that yielded more space and bought us some more time together.

The addition of the basement let us stay long enough to watch our youngest daughter take her first steps on your hardwood floors. Your reasonable monthly mortgage payment allowed us the wiggle room needed to pay giant medical bills and keep a roof over our heads while our oldest son regained his strength after his many chemotherapy treatments. Your spacious great room even served as a makeshift nursery for our surprise baby who joined our family just last summer.

You did so much for us little house. We will always love you for it, but it’s clearly time for us to move on.

It’s not you, it’s me.

I want a white kitchen. I want an oversized three car garage. I want a dining space that can comfortably seat my growing brood, and I desperately long for a drop zone as I kick shoes and mittens out of my way every time I walk through your front door.

Still as I clean out your flower beds for the last time, as I pick out replacement carpet for your worn out high traffic areas, and as I watch neutral toned paint fill your once colorful walls, I can’t help but shed a tear. Truthfully, you were the first house I really loved and I know very soon another little family will fall head over heels for your vaulted ceilings and low-maintenance yard.

Let’s stay friends little house. I’ll always cherish the good times we had together.

Remember, it’s not you, it’s me.

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Jessie is a talkative storyteller who enjoys making new friends. She is married to a Colorado native and together they have four beautiful children: Leela, Cora, Lincoln, and Theodore. Her oldest son is a pediatric-cancer survivor and caring for him has earned her the title of momcologist. A teacher by trade, Jessie loves to collaborate with others. In her free time Jessie enjoys movies and popcorn with her family, browsing the aisles at Target, and trying to find an excuse to eat out.

2 COMMENTS

  1. Love this, Jessie! I can imagine all the feels for this house. Excited for your next home and all the memories to be made there!

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