So, my home is no longer my home.
It’s such a weird feeling.
We signed the paperwork to sell our little house (that my husband fondly calls Breezehome) yesterday. This house has been our home for ten years. It’s served us well, even though we outgrew it a while ago. We sign the paperwork to buy our new house next Wednesday.
It’s exciting. And a little bit terrifying.
We’re not moving all that far. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that big of a deal. But my kids will be going to different schools. My older son (whom I’ll call Thing 1) will be going into middle school in the fall. We figured it would be best to move him before then rather than move him in the middle of his middle school career, but he’s still a little angry with us. What was going to be a new adventure with his friends has turned into something uncertain and a bit scary. “But I’m shy,” he says. Thankfully, he’s less shy than he thinks he is, and makes friends pretty easily, but he’s certainly got his quirks. I hope he finds his people.
Thing 2 is going into third grade. He’ll be fine.
New house (which has yet to be named) is in a neighborhood with a pool, lake, tennis courts, playground, etc, so I’m hoping over the summer the kids can meet some of the neighborhood kids and make some new connections before school starts up.
So we’ll spend this last week packing up the last of our things and saying goodbye to neighbors. Thankfully that “not moving too far” thing will (hopefully) let them come visit often.
Goodbye, Breezehome. I hope you make the next family as happy as you made us.