Laying wide eyed in my bed I think of the first night we slept in this house. It was a Friday night and the hubby and I were super tired after a day full of shifting and running around. The Daughter was as usual chatting nineteen to a dozen sandwiched in between us. The guest bedroom bed was the only one we were able to assemble that day and we slept in that room the first night. The windows didn’t have any blinds and it was pure bliss to look out and see the clear blue sky dotted with innumerable twinkling stars. It was definitely one of the most magical nights of our lives. Sleeping in our own home that first night was a beautiful feeling. So many emotions mixed with the feeling of happiness made a magical concoction.
That was almost 3.5 years ago. Ever since we’ve made so many memories here. We’ve celebrated birthdays, hosted parties, had friends and family over, fought, cried, yelled and loved. If the walls could talk I’m sure they would tell you so many stories of our lives. We were blessed to call this Home our own.
So today as I was cleaning the house, scrubbing the floor, dusting every nook and cranny I felt so sad. This time cleaning was not being done for visiting guests neither was it a regular day of cleaning. This was different!! This time I’m cleaning for the real estate agents to come and look at our house. As I vigorously tidy up and try to brush off the feeling of sadness that’s creeping in me, I look at the wall where there are small pencil marks marking Daughter’s height at various points. I know those marks needs to go. I look at her purple room, a room that’s her sanctuary. The walls that she helped paint. While helping us paint her own room is one of Daughter’s most proud accomplishments, I’m sure the real estate agent will have a lot to say about our painting job.
It’s so strange that every spot, every mark every stain that others might see as imperfections I call them a memory.