The House That Built Me

Have you ever heard Miranda Lambert's song, "The House That Built Me"? The one where she sings about visiting the house that she grew up in and all of the emotions that she feels? Well that song perfectly describes what I'm feeling right now.

Let me explain.

When I was 15, my parents separated and sold our house. Now, my parents built that house, so they were the original owners. That was our house in every sense of the word. Mine and Kelly's hand prints were cemented by the pool, our heights were recorded in Kelly's room and almost everything that was put together in that house, was made by my dad and his friends, even the roof. When my family and I moved out, it literally killed me. No other place in the world was ever going to be my true home; I had a very strong emotional attachment to it and I loved it with every fiber of my being.

I don't live far away from the house, maybe 15-20 minutes but I still never make the effort to drive out there. I knew that the new owners would change everything and it just wouldn't feel right. But today I got a haircut from a friend of the family and she lives 2 blocks away from my old house. So curiosity got the best of me and I made that dreaded turn onto my old street.

Not much had changed about the neighborhood itself. But my old house was extremely different. A new fence enclosed the front yard, a large screen patio encased the backyard, the house was painted different colors, a new playground had been built and the yard had swamp-buggies and other large vehicles strewn across the front yard. It didn't look or feel like home anymore. My heart broke as I stared at this newfound place and a part of me cringed as I imagined what they must've changed about the inside.

I took my first steps in that house, I said my first word there and so did my sister. My mom taught us to swim there. We played soccer and football with our dad there. My dad built a playground for us there. All of my most loved and cherished memories were there. And it just wasn't the same driving past the house without our Christmas decorations there. There were no gingerbread houses and candy canes covering the yard, or giant blown-up snowmen.

I know that things change and I knew that it would make me sad to see my house like that. But I just always imagined my parents living there their entire lives and bringing my kids to see where I grew up. Of course, that's not an option and hasn't been for 5 years but it still hurts. I hope that the children growing up in that house love it just as much as I did and still do and that the parents appreciate it as much as my parents did.

Sorry that this post is a bit depressing.

-Chelsea