The time has come. We have been living in a beautiful post war home and so many memories were made here. It was here in this house that Emily looked at me and smiled for the first time, giggled for the first time, clapped her hands for the first time. This is where I learned about the challenges of being a parent to two babes under two and this is where I had to somehow soothe Emily with her terrible bowel movements and this is where we have watched Luella become quite possibly the best big sister there is.
It was here when I rushed Emily to the hospital frantically and she was later diagnosed with Meningitis. This is where I had sleepless nights to make sure she was still breathing.
It was here in this house that we have grown closer, made mistakes, offered forgiveness, and learned what family is all about. We have spilled secrets and fears, yelled and screamed, cried from both sadness and laughter. This house has seen us at our best and seen us at our worst.
But I know that if these walls could talk, they would only tell tales of love. Raw, rich, beautiful love.
May our next house be just as wonderful, just as warm, and just as willing to graciously capture the next chapter of our story.