Dear First House,
It's official. Yesterday, we signed you over to your new owners. As I passed the keys across the table, I couldn't help but think of the moment, almost seven years ago to the day, when we first held those keys... the keys that unlocked the door to our home. Our first home.
Sitting at the attorney's table, I also couldn't help but think of just how different our emotions were back then— excited, hopeful, proud— compared to today. Today, we feel beaten down. We're angry, hurt, slightly humiliated [thanks to the jackass attorney], but most of all, we're disappointed. Our time with you didn't go quite as we expected and anticipated, and it's hard to not feel heartbroken about that. Especially for me, the girl who takes everything to heart.
Of course, none of this is entirely your fault. If I were to place the blame on anyone, it would only land on myself. Maybe I was naïve to think our life would happen a certain way while we lived within your walls. Maybe I was too optimistic, too idealistic... Maybe I just didn't know any better. But the truth is, no one is really to blame at all. Life happens. And if I've learned anything in the last seven years, it's that life often happens the way you least expect it to and the complete opposite of the way you think you want it to. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for worse.
A part of me wants to write to you about all the things I am disappointed about— all the things that I wanted to happen but didn't, all the things I couldn't even imagine would happen but did. A part of me wants to just get it out in some attempt at letting it go and moving on. But, is there really any benefit in that? I think we're both very well aware of all of those things; I never made much of an effort to hide them from you. You saw everything unfold firsthand, just as I did. So, no. I think we both will agree that there is no good that can come from opening up fresh wounds.
I realize I'm making this sound much worse than it really, truly was. I apologize for that. I had hoped for a happier outcome, that we would be able to walk away with a smile on our faces saying, "At least things ended in our favor!"; but alas, it wasn't meant to be. Instead, B and I find ourselves constantly reminding one another that, "It could've been worse...". And in fact, it could've been MUCH worse. Our grievances are so minor compared to what others have endured, and while I am eternally grateful for that, you know I often struggle with focusing on the good instead of the not-so-good.
And there is so much good coming from all of this. Most importantly, we get to move on. You with your new family, and us... in my mom's basement. Maybe for a little while longer than we originally planned, but we're at peace with that and thankful that we have this time available to us to prepare for our next, and hopefully last, home. And now that the stress of trying to find someone to take our place has finally ended, I can start the process of bringing our happiest moments back to the forefront of my memories of you, our first house. Our first real home together. The place where we planned and prepared for our wedding and the place we came home to after our honeymoon. Where we added many animals to our ever-growing furry-family and sadly, said good-bye to two. The place we put our blood, sweat, and tears into while making you our own, making you beautiful. The place where we welcomed and hosted friends and family, celebrated birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, reunions, and everyday little victories. The place where we learned how to be responsible, proactive, conscientious, independent, and learned just what it means to be a homeowner. You were the place where we laughed. We laughed so much our stomachs cramped and our eyes overflowed with tears [the good kind]. Sometimes, we laughed so hard I got the hiccups and once, B even fell off the sofa. We laughed so frequently and so loudly, that we often thought that surely, our neighbors hate us for making all this racket.
Most of all, you were a place of love. We loved you as best as we could, and you were where we learned the hardest, but most valuable lesson of all— to love each other.
No, things did not turn out as we would have liked them to, how we expected them to. We're a little beaten up, a little bruised, but we're all still standing. And as for me and B, we still have each other and we still have our happy memories of you and our time together. So in reality, I suppose things really did end in our favor after all.