Tuesday, 24 May 2016

The emotions of moving home

Squidge giving Upsy Daisy a kiss

If you saw my post from the other day you'll know we're going through the process of moving house at the moment.

On Sunday, I was sat on the sofa with Squidge cuddled up to me, we were watching some Studio Ghibli, and I started thinking about this house, the one we've been living in for the last 11 years, and just how much I'll miss it, and that's when I started crying and found it hard to stop.

To most people, this is just a starter home, somewhere to begin climbing the ladder. But to me, this has been our home and a big part of our lives for 11 years.  That's the longest I've ever lived anywhere. In that time, we've mourned (1 parent, 1 brother, 3 grandparents, 2 aunties and 1 uncle), we got engaged on the decking, we got married, we've had a baby and become a family of 3, we've thrown a gazillion parties and nursed a gazillion hangovers. And when we move, we're leaving all that behind.

This house will always be the last place I ever saw my brother. Where he turned up by shouting through the letterbox, scaring the life out of my hubby. The house where my mum saw me settle down before she passed away, and the house we brought our little baby home to.

I'm really looking forward to the new chapter of our lives, and we'll make plenty of great new memories there too, but emotionally, I'm finding it really hard to let go of this house, because of so many strong emotional ties to it. 

Have you ever found it really hard to move home?

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