Markings on a Wall

It has been a wonderful Thanksgiving all and all. We ended up forgoing trekking across Southern California from Rossmoor to Pasadena, and opted to just stay at my in-laws. My tired and still sick body is thanking me, but my heart is sad that I didn't get to see my family today. A first in my entire life. I am crying just thinking about it.

It doesn't help that I am here in the house all alone. Since I was moving so slow today due to still being sick, I wasn't ready to go to the in-laws, so Art and the kids went ahead with out me while I got ready. Since we had 2 cars and I was still feeling tired and sick, I left early to come home and get in my pajamas.

I'm sitting here at my computer, going through my blog roll and I start to read the Flea Market Style blog, I come across this passage in a posting:

You just can't manufacture character in a few days. This is the layering of a home that takes years and often decades to produce. It's the peeling paint on the side of a barn, the worn footsteps on a front porch and the pencil markings on a door post marking the height measurements of little children. You can't buy character, it's acquired.

And that is when it dawns on me. The markings on the kitchen wall where we have measured the kid's growth for the last 4 years. How will we take that with us? Why oh why did I not just do a growth chart that I could pick up and take?!?! And it finally hits me that sooner or later, we are leaving this house.

This house that we moved to 5.5 years ago to start a family. This house that we tried for months and months to get pregnant in. The bathroom where I found out that we were expecting our first child. The backyard that I ran out to to tell my husband that it had finally happened! We were having a baby. The house that we brought our newborn daughter home to, and later, our newborn son.

The house that we threw countless parties in, hosted dinners, brunches, play-dates, holidays, block parties in. The house where we went from being a married couple, to a family. We love this house, and while I am ready to move on, I know that there will always be an invisible foot firmly planted in this house on Julian Avenue. And that is how I know that we did our job here. For 5.5 years, this house was a home.