a love letter to my neighbor's house.

Today, my neighbors (and really my second family) sold their house.

I knew this day would happen eventually, but I always thought that I would have more time to say goodbye to a place that practically raised me. I thought I would be there to say goodbye in person. I never thought I would be 2,000 miles away, enjoying a cup of coffee in sunny southern California, when I heard the news. I read the text and tears immediately rushed to the edges of my eyes.

"I don't know why I'm so emotional," I tell my coworker. "It's just a house."

But it's not just a house. It's a home. It's the place where I've made some of the greatest memories of my life, where I fled when I needed a safe haven, and honestly, where I've become myself. 

It is in the South's living room where I've cried over breakups and rejoiced over new job opportunities. It is one of the first places I went when I came home from college, and then Italy, and then Atlanta. It is the place where I've spent thousands of summer nights surrounded by some of my favorite people in the world, laughing so hard I cried and crying so hard I couldn't breathe.

In many ways, this marks the end of my childhood. And even though that technically ended a long time ago and the people mentioned above have long grown up and graduated, gotten married, and even moved states, change is hard.

I am who I am today because of the people that have lived in and walked through the doors of that home. And to think that I won't be in that space with those people again, well, it's a lot to swallow.

I think the hardest thing about change is that you're forced to let go. You don't have a choice in it. People move, houses get sold, babies and spouses and new jobs happen - and there's nothing you can do about it. You can't stop the wind from ushering in a new season, you just have to let it do it's thing and roll with whatever comes next. Even if it means a snowstorm in the middle of April.

There's a Bob Dylan lyric that I think of from time to time. It's painted on a mural back home in letters so big you can't ignore them, alongside a vibrant portrait of Bob himself.

"The times they are a-changin'."

The times are a-changing. They have been changing since the day you and I were born and will only continue to change as we grow up. And just like many of the other incidents I've written about on this very website, God is using this to teach me that it's okay when a good thing ends. It's okay when a treasured memory becomes just that, a treasured memory. It's okay if I find a new space where I laugh so hard I cry and cry so hard I can't breathe with people I love. It doesn't mean that I don't treasure that place or those people, because like it or not, they are a part of me. I carry them wherever I go. Really, I've been so lucky, so incredibly fortunate, that those people and that home are in my life. And now, it's time for them to bless somebody else.

"I never thought this day would come.." I had responded. "I'm actually really sad."

"Home is where the heart is though ya know?" Anthony replied. "Doesn’t matter where you’re at as long as you have people around you that you care about." 

I'm forever thankful for a place and people that allowed me to grow and loved me unconditionally, and I can only pray that the new inhabitants find the same haven that I did.