25 Years

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Another short Mel Robbins story.  So after I read her post discussing the truths above, she shared another story (or rather continued the story) sharing that she and her husband are leaving the house that she and her family have lived in for 25 years.  Again, maybe I’m just extra sensitive and sentimental, but something about it struck me.  She spoke of the memories created over that time there, the love, the laughter, yes even some of the bad things and how those are the things that make life.  The accumulation of things doesn’t make it a life, but the experiences do.  Her point was that it doesn’t matter where they are or how attached they are to certain experiences, the house doesn’t make a home, it is the people in it.

In moving into the home we have now (just last year) we planned on having my parents live with us at some point.  That means giving up their home, my childhood home.  We struggled for a while deciding if we would buy that house from my parents to make it easier for them but we came to the conclusion it wouldn’t fit all of us and the life we have now.  I started thinking of all the memories I have in that house, the good and the bad, thinking about how safe I felt there, the firsts I had there.  It was quite literally the beginning of my life.  There was always a lot of life in that house, and as time moves on, my siblings and I left.  It’s much quieter now.

The point is, the lesson is the same.  It wasn’t the walls that created that life, it was us that brought that life to the house.  We are the family, it wasn’t the house that did it.  It was a wonderful privilege to have those experiences in a central location but life isn’t the structure.  And the natural ebb and flow of life is that: it gets loud and then quiet, chaotic then still, full then empty, moments together and moments apart.  It is all part of the experience and no one is unique in that.  We are doing the same thing in our new home with our son.  We are the core and that life comes from us.

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