Home Is Where Your Heart Is

Written March 1, 2019

My youngest son, Kevin, moved out this weekend. As I would carry his clothes from his car into his new place I found myself taking a long whiff of his scent, much like you do when you first bring a new born home. I know it sounds weird. Oh, how I will miss him, his smile and his bear hugs. Me giving him a pout sad face or shaking my finger when he would forget to say goodbye. Listening to him come in late at night and me getting up, circling to see if he wanted to talk or something to eat.

Don’t get me wrong, I have known this day was coming. He went away to college for four years, but his room was always here. I could always go in his room sit on the bed and look around when I missed him and suddenly it would be okay, because I knew he would be back.

When my oldest went off to school and then on to his own place I consoled myself thinking I still had a little one left at home. We rearrange Keith’s room into a guest/play room but there were still signs of him left behind. Toys he had passed down to his brother. A remnant from his first concert, a No Doubt sticker he placed on the mirror. On the wall was the faint outline of the Ghost-buster logo that had long been painted over. A dent in the wall, from a punch, when he found out something tragic had happened to our family.

Since we are retiring and selling the house, our youngest was able to take most of the furniture. He took the leather couches, one of which has a deep scratch. A scratch made by Alex when he came over for the first time and dragged his suitcase across the sofa. The scratch that I hurried to hide with shoe polish as I told him “it’s just furniture, no big deal kiddo” I think it was that moment that he realized I would not be the wicked step-mom. The sofa since has many more scratches but that one I would touch and think of him.

This will not be the case this time around. There are cleaners coming to the house this week to scrub and prepare the house for sale. I will not be able to go into this room as of next month and spot all the tell-tale signs of their previous inhabitants. I will not be able to see, touch and even smell these reminders, but these memories live within me. I carry those moments, good and bad, like golden nuggets of the wonderful young men that have blessed my life over the years.

It’s bitter sweet seeing these children grow up and move on, but it’s wonderful knowing that they are more than capable to spread their wings and move on.