There seem to be more endings than new beginnings as I get older. And one starts to wonder just how many endings can continue until there’s nothing left.
This train of thought started with a Facebook post by my ex-husband, notifying his world that our house was finally sold. Finally. Good news about not having to carry two mortgages anymore in today’s difficult economy.
But this was the house that we built 27 years ago, after years of scouring house plans for just the right one. The custom-built house that we watched become a home from the ground up…the footers being poured, the walls being erected, the sheet rock hung, the roof laid, the rooms painted. We went there every night after work to check on the progress, showing Alex, at one and a half, his future home.
Everything happened there – a marriage, raising a son, bringing in 2 cats (Peanut and Freddie) and a dog (Misty), birthday parties, Easter celebrations, Christmas dinners. Alex’s Communion and Confirmation, his driver’s license, his high school and college graduations. And our divorce.
So many memories, so many years, so much laughter and so many tears. The house breathes them. Inhale peace, exhale hostility. Inhale love, exhale animosity. Inhale hope, exhale despair.
I hope that a family bought the house, and that their dreams are fulfilled within its sanctuary. I hope the walls ring with their joy and laughter, and that the years bring them all that they deserve, and more.
For it is a good house, with good bones, with a heart that has known love. Just blow the dust of the years away and bring in the fresh air of hope and new beginnings.
For this is sacred ground. A family lived here, loved here, lost here.
And may a new family be found here.
How many endings until there’s nothing left?