Bidding farewell to childhood home

Over this past Christmas break I had to say goodbye to something that’s been apart of my family since 2001.

The house I grew up in, my boyhood home so to speak.

This didn’t come as a shock. I knew the day was coming when my parents bought a condo early last summer.

Seeing that they are empty-nesters, my parents have wanted to downsize for a while now. And quite frankly I wanted them to downsize as well.

You see, besides the summer after my freshman year, the only time I went home was for Christmas break this year and last year and one other weekend last May. That was it.

My sister, who’s now two years out of college and lives in Cincinnati, only comes home for Christmas.

It just didn’t make sense for two people and a 20-pound dog to live in a house that had room for so much more.

My lack of time spent there over the past three years was not because I didn’t like being at home or that I didn’t miss it.

I loved that house and I loved growing up there.

It wasn’t the first house I lived in, but it was the house where I have some of my earliest and fondest memories and spent the most time. Simply put, I can’t imagine having grown up anywhere else.

But as we all know, life and other opportunities take up time that would have been spent at home.

For me, Thanksgiving and Easter were spent in Michigan with family. Spring break in Illinois never sounded right and, hence, why I never went home then either. This past summer I lived in Cincinnati for an internship.

Life happens.

Yet, none of that mattered when I walked in the front door.

The grandfather clock that once greeted me everyday was gone. The piano where my sister spent countless hours playing? Gone. My room was bare. (To be fair, most of my old room lives on where I currently reside, in Hazel Park.)

But my last visit was not for reminiscing. I had to help my parents move some things from the basement and garage to their condo and storage unit.

By the end of it, the entire house was clean and empty.

It was ready for a new family.

It’s funny, when I told others that my parents were moving, many would ask, “Well, aren’t you sad or upset that they’re moving? Are you going to cry?”

I wanted to say, “Heck, no!”

But instead I would politely brush off the question.

I wasn’t sad, and, no, I did not cry. In fact, I was happy and excited for my parents.

They have given me a lot and it only seems right that they’ll now be happily living in a space that actually fits them.

Will I miss that house?

Of course I will.

I’ll miss our large wrap-around porch. I’ll miss our flagpole that proudly flew the flag. And I’ll miss the neatly trimmed and always green grass.

The beauty of my parents’ new condo is that it is still in Geneva. All my favorite restaurants, stores and places to hangout will still be there the next time I’m home, whenever that may be.

Walsworth is VN news editor