Bittersweet

 October 2010

In the dictionary, it defines bittersweet as...

–adjective

1. both bitter and sweet to the taste: bittersweet chocolate.

2. both pleasant and painful or regretful: a bittersweet memory.

For the record, I have never liked bittersweet chocolate, but I will eat it.

In October, we finally sold our home.  It's been a year and four months since I have even stepped foot in that house, and even now I sit here and cry.  We were never supposed to live in that house, or at least not for very long.  It wasn't anything spectacular or special. But it was home. The yard was finally almost done, everything had it's place.  I knew the boys' friends, and that they came from good families.  We had our 12 different ball schedules down pat. I knew the coaches, and the coaches wives, and their kids.  I knew that if I only put $30 worth of gas in the Suburban, I could just about get everywhere I needed to go for the week. I always told people that it was just a house, and it is, or was.  But to us it was so much more, it was a life that it represented. Our life, and our home.  When we left, a part of me hoped it was temporary, but a bigger part of me knew that chapter of our lives was coming to an end. 

I'm not ungrateful for the life that we have now,  the people here have been beyond wonderful.  We're in a home that we can almost afford and almost fit in. We are still figuring things out.  But somehow a little part of me aches for once was.  Every time I try and pull out a pan from the tiny cupboard they are precariously stacked and the tower tumbles, or when there is absolutely no place for the boys to go and get away, a part of me aches.  I sometimes think of what I would have done to the nursery, if I would have given in and painted it pink.

A couple years ago, a high school acquaintance called.  To this day I'm still not sure why.  She persistently asked what we were doing, and reluctantly I told her.  At the end of our conversation she said "Wow, your going to be rich"  I replied, "Rich or bankrupt".  I wish I could take that back, it must have jinxed (jenks, Ha!) us.

Kaden's legs have been hurting him lately, we tell him it sometimes hurts to grow.  If we don't grow, we don't move forward in life, but sometimes those growth spurts are pretty painful.  I know someday that we will look back on this experience and know that it was the best thing for us, such a short time.

So, it was bittersweet to sell the house.  Sweet to sell, (even though the buyers were pains) and we get to move on. Bitter to think of what once was.  To say the least, I didn't go with Brandon to gather the last of our things.