Wednesday night, we packed up the last of our stuff from the house.

Greg had been working on it all day but was moving a load when I got off work. When I walked into the house, I was able to carry one box to my car before I broke down.

Memories flooded through me like a dam had burst.

I walked from room to room thinking about all of the things that had happened in our first home.

We came home as newlyweds.

I graduated nursing school.

My water broke (with Brock) 3 days after we put in brand-new carpet and I had to leap from our bedroom, across the hall and into the bathroom so I wouldn’t leak all over the new carpet.

We brought Brock and Adrianna home to that house.

Both kids rolled over, ate baby food and took their first steps in that house.

We planted our first garden there.

Greg started a business, then stopped the business so he could finish his degree in elementary education.

We replaced and remodeled just about everything in that house.

Our dog had a puppy (just one. Although I’m fairly certain he ate all of his brothers and sisters because he was the size of The Beast from The Sandlot) in the garage.

I made countless meals in the kitchen.

I folded endless piles of laundry in the laundry room.

I dusted twice.

I know that it’s silly to be so attached to a house. But it’s not the 4 walls and ceiling that I will miss. It’s the memories that I’m scared of losing.


Our teeny tiny bathroom where we potty-trained 2 children and had epic Smack Fights


The “master” bedroom (I’m using quotes because it’s so small cozy).  The site of nightly wrestling matches as well as the spot where Brock rolled over for the first time.  Right off the bed onto the floor.


Adrianna’s nursery which was later converted into a toy room which is now storage for our kitchen stuff (and a few other random things) that we will move into the new place when it’s ready.


The linen closet where I could never find the pillow cases that matched the sheets that I wanted to put on the bed.


(Part of) Our kitchen.  This is where the refrigerator was.  Home to pictures of our milestones, colorings the kids made, alphabet magnets, grocery lists and, most recently, our ultrasound picture of The New Kid (On The Block).

Millions of memories were made in our first home.

And we will make a million more in our next one.   Because I know that the structure of a house isn’t what makes it home.  The love of the people inside are.

**This post is brought to you by Pregnancy Hormones ©.  I sincerely hope that you aren’t weeping at your desk like I am right now.  But if you are?  Can you bring me some Ben & Jerry’s S’mores Ice Cream?  We can split it.**


10 thoughts on “Empty

  1. Tara you will always have have all that and more. I stell remember when my kids was little things they done. I remember what you Grandkids did and now I have Great-Grandkids all I can say is you will have a bigger house with all kinds of room in side and out. Love you

  2. That is the thing about home, they are filled with memories to last a lifetime. Thankfully those memories come with you, and your new home will make new memories. XOXXO

  3. as I left my first house I also went from room to room remembering many of the things you did.The sadness goes away but the memories never will.Now it’s time to make new memories at a different location ..just as special

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