I said goodbye to 8321 Hobhouse Circle tonight. I went over to mow the lawn before our Friday closing and couldn’t help but walk through it one last time. It looked good. once I mowed the overgrown yard, anyway.
The backyard was just as friendly and inviting as ever. The playset sat waiting for its new owner. The Japanese Maple tree I nurtured from a deer-devastated foot-high stick now towers five feet tall. The “Provider” tree – a sweetgum I opted to keep – once again sang my praises as I brushed by it. It was a more somber song than I usually get.
Then a familiar sound rose above the din of the lawn mower: a train! Like a kid, I ran towards the tracks, waving my arms in the hopes of getting one last horn. I watched as CSX engine 6025 rolled past with its empty tankers, bound for downtown.
My neighbors Liz and her son Andrew waved from their porch and soon we were talking in the street. We chatted about the Pennsylvania primary election results the night before and of goings-on in the neighborhood since we moved. They said they missed us and I told them the feeling is mutual. It was good to see them. Comforting, too.
I chatted longer than I anticipated, but I could not go without taking another stroll through our old home. It was an emotional walk. I did a double-take seeing boxes with our handwriting on them until I realized they were the moving boxes we donated to the Chappells. A few small items of theirs were already in.
I walked around downstairs, picturing in my mind the furniture that left its footprints in the carpeting. When I ventured upstairs I was tough keeping myself together. I paused for a long time in the childrens’ rooms, staring at the walls I painted. I painted those walls starting with big hearts and the name of each kid in them. I imagined I could still see those hearts and smiled knowing they would always be there.
As the sun was rapidly setting, I switched off the lights and thanked the house for sheltering us and nurturing us for four wonderful years. There are a lot of happy memories that, like the painted hearts, will always be a part of that house.
I walked out, closed the door, and fetched the kids’ sidewalk chalk from the minivan. I wrote a message to the new owners on the driveway, welcoming them by name. Below this I wrote “you’ll love it here!”
We certainly did.