Old House, New House

Tomorrow marks twelve years that my family has lived in our current home.  The significance?  That’s one year longer than we had lived in our previous home, to which I came as an infant of about 7 months.  Technically, I have now lived over half my life here.

As some of you may have calculated, I was eleven when we moved.  Just old enough to remember almost everything from the move, to understand some of the emotions playing on others’ heartstrings, and yet young enough not to have been a whole lot of help in terms of planning or house hunting.  Old enough, however, to have missed my first home.

Oddly enough, I don’t remember doing so.  Not that I didn’t like our old house.  Granted, with the addition of TJ and BP a year and a half earlier, we had seven people in a four bedroom house, and for homeschoolers who are home all day and under each other’s feet all day, that’s a little bit crowded.  But the house was home.  We had our swing set in the backyard, we had our game/craft room in the basement, and as far as I remember, we were pretty much comfortable.

But after a couple of months of hunting, we moved into a house that has fit our family like it was made for us.  The house was built by a family with six kids, and we bought it from one of the sons.  Five bedrooms upstairs meant that Sister and I finally got our own rooms again (hadn’t had that since she was too big for a toddler bed).  All the rooms were a lot bigger, including an eat-in kitchen.  It’s a homeschooler friendly house with a sixth bedroom on the first floor, which we turned into our office/schoolroom.  And the basement!  Instead of a partial basement with a crawlspace, we now have a full basement, which now serves as our game room and general hangout when the weather is hot (such as recently).  And that’s not to mention the backyard, which is huge!

Still, you’d expect my to have missed the old house at least a little.  All my memories up to that point were of that house.  I couldn’t remember living anywhere else.  But I remember when we went back to the old house the night of the move, to make sure that every last thing was out and any last cleaning had been done for the new owners, feeling as if it wasn’t my house anymore.  I belonged in the new one.  I liked the new house a lot better, I suppose, and that made me miss the old one less.  And we only moved from one side of town to the other, basically.  We were still ten minutes from all our regular grocery stores, church, etc.  It’s not like we moved out of state.

Twelve years later, I still have plenty of memories of the old house, but I’ve also got as many or more from the new.  Both houses have seen their share of changes.  All four of my siblings were born while we were in the old house.  In six months or so, we’ll mark the fifth anniversary of my grandparents moving into the addition they built onto the back of this house.

I have a notion to draw on some memories of the old house and this one, so prepare yourselves for some nostalgia among my future reflections!

Explore posts in the same categories: Growing Up, My Family

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One Comment on “Old House, New House”

  1. Sister Says:

    I have significantly more memories of the new house than the old, explained by the fact that I was only 7 when we moved. I remember going back to the old house the night of the move as you describe it, but what sticks out in my memory is that I hated to see our house empty. It made it feel like we had never lived there, even though I remembered good times and fun there. That visit was surreal. So was going to sleep in a new room. But I don’t think I ever regretted the move. I think God also had our family in mind as He guided the previous family in building this house. 🙂

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