If the walls of this old house could talk, they would chatter about the family of six that lived here for 25 years. It would smile about all of the birthdays, family dinners, graduation parties, engagements, weddings, eggs colored and hunted, Christmas presents unfurled, games played, and laughter shared under its roof. And it would shed a tear for the times when the family was worried or heartbroken and hunkered down inside until the storm passed. A house that builds a family becomes more than brick and mortar. It becomes a shelter for the emotions of life. Its walls have protected the family, not just from the weather, but the bumps and bruises of living. This old house built our family.

Like most empty nesters, this big ole house that we raised our family in feels like a museum of memories. Memories that echo through the halls where four active boys were raised. But now there are not any more bedroom walls covered in sports posters, or pen hash marks on the door frame that marked the boys’ growth through the years. The antique pencil sharpener that is attached inside the closet no longer gathers shavings from frustrated homework assignments. This house has become too big and too quiet for us. It is almost a half hour drive to town and sits up a long driveway that Mr. U has to maintain and plow every winter. This home that we have loved and has protected us for so many years no longer fits this phase of life we are in. It is time to move on.

The memories

We started out with a hunk of land on a hillside and dreams of building a home where a family would share life together. Since that time, we have added so much to it. Not just the house itself and the obligatory grass and shrubs, but unique features that made it our own. There is the tree that Mr. U. planted for me when I graduated with my master’s degree. He has since added a fountain under it, using the old pump from his family farm. Speaking of the family farm, he hauled an ancient rusty truck up here and used it as an outdoor feature. When son #3 got married we put a basket of props next to it and used it as a fun photo “booth” location. Will the new owners treasure the old truck or think it’s an eyesore?

Shortly after we first moved in, we laboriously laid bricks down to create a back patio. We wanted something unique and inexpensive that we could do ourselves. Over the years, the moss has crept up between the bricks giving it a Tuscan feel. Ten years ago, our boys helped Mr. U build the pergola over the brick patio. Son #1 was getting married here and we needed a space that would define the patio and yard. Will the new owners see the charm in the weathered pergola and moss filled bricks or will they pull it all out?

The beautiful lavender rhododendron and pink bleeding-heart bushes came from very small starts that my dad gave us off of his plants, back when he was much younger and still able to garden. The rhododendron has grown out of control and covers part of our bedroom window, blocking some of the view. But we can’t cut it back because every year a robin comes to lay eggs in the nest that is tucked into its branches. We observe the baby birds growing up from our bedroom window. How will the new owners know to save this?

Speaking of animals, we have had plenty of wild ones stop by through the years. Some wanted and some not. We love the deer, turkey and occasional moose, but the moose can be a little scary, the deer eat everything, and the turkeys are messy. The little birds in our birdhouse have been a welcome addition. The voles in the garden and bats that thought the loft in our garage was a bat cave… not so much. And none of us will forget the leprechaun that moved into a stump on our property. The grands brought him miniature pancakes and milk in a tiny teacup, and he left them small gifts and candy. Who will feed the leprechaun when we leave?

Being a farm boy at heart, Mr. U loves to dig in the dirt. So shortly after we moved here he added a large garden space with a deer fence around it. Because, well… they like to eat everything in sight. Several years later he built a rustic greenhouse to start his plants in the early spring when it is still too cold around here to put anything in the ground. We hung little lights in it, and it became a unique part of the landscaping. There are few things quite as satisfying, or delicious as picking fresh raspberries, vegetables and herbs to add to a meal.

Our most recent addition was the pizza oven and sitting area. It has been such a great Gathering Place. We have cooked hundreds of pizzas in it and shared many conversations under the warmth of its embers. We have even tried our hand at baking Bread in it. We will really miss the pizza oven. Several people have asked if Mr. U will build another one at our new home, but he says it is doubtful. It was A LOT of work to build, and pizza nights can take a lot of prep time and clean up afterwards. I think it just might be one of the many memories that we carry away with us from the house on the hill.

Moving on

We have spent the last couple years slowly going through the arduous process of sorting through 44 years of Stuff. Stuff that has been packed into every crevice and cranny of this old house. As I have gone through every single item, deciding what to keep, give away or throw, I have also relived our lives. And I have shed a lot of tears. Tears of appreciation and tears of sadness for that part of our lives that we will never be able to live again.

Now the sorting, cleaning and small repairs are almost done, and the house went up on the market last week. A plain house that became our home. For a home does not just happen overnight. It takes years of living life in it and having family and friends share gatherings in it. And slowly, over time, a house morphs into a home. Then one day, we decide that home no longer fits our lifestyle, and we need to move on. It is a bit like leaving a close relative behind. This home helped build and shape our family and I will be forever grateful for the years we spent here. Thanks for walking with me down memory lane and sharing the house that built a family.