Empty Houses

You know the scene in the first Sex and the City movie where Carrie reflectively walks through her empty Manhattan apartment for the last time? The scene was very poignant and memorable to me because I saw the movie on the same day that I moved out of my college home. Since that day (almost exactly 4 years ago) I’ve re-experienced the “empty house reflection” three times.

The most impactful was definitely the first, walking through the empty home 1 mile away from the LSU campus.

In that house I experienced so many emotions, including  a gut-wrenching break-up followed by Jonathan and I’s first kiss 6 months later. It was where Bailey spent her puppyhood; where I forged lifetime friendships and honed my beer pong skills; where I turned 21; where I took graduation pictures; where I planned my wedding. It was where I came of age and therefore, it was very painful for me to walk away from.

Our next home in Midland was where Jon and I first lived together; where 3 months into marriage we had our biggest fight ever; where I got so angry that I packed my bags and started my car before realizing that Jonathan was my only friend within a 500 mile radius so I should probably swallow my pride and go back in and apologize; it’s where we learned what a commitment and covenant truly means.

That house is where we fostered a Brittany Spaniel named Chapman and after 4 months, had the heart-breaking experience of handing him over to his forever home; where two months later that painful separation led us to the decision to adopt a sweet baby named Samson.

It was where the two of us became an inseparable team and if I’m being honest, slipped blissfully into co-dependency.

Our Houston house is a little different. I think that in 10 years we will look back at our time in Houston and hardly remember it other than as a blip on our timeline. For the past year and a half, I feel like we’ve been coasting. There was little turbulence in our transition to living in Houston. We both had jobs, friends, and family waiting there to greet us, making the adjustment much smoother than what we experienced in moving to Midland. Though our cottage in the Heights has no doubt been my favorite house, it’s always felt a bit empty memory-wise.

Honestly, I feel more attached to my parents’ house in Lake Conroe where we are currently staying until our flight tomorrow night. Since my parents are in the process of moving to Covington, Louisiana, they plan on selling this house in the next few months; a decision which has me a bit choked up, recognizing that this is likely my last visit here. Since my parents ex-patriated as soon as I went off to college, this lake house is the closest thing I have to a childhood home.

For the past 6 years it’s been a place of peace and restfulness; a place to study for final exams; a place to get a tan; a place to take a cool morning jog with a view of the water; a place to visit my family after long periods of separation; a gathering spot for birthday, engagement, and holiday celebrations.

So it’s appropriate that my last day in Texas started with an early morning jog with the dogs followed by two hours of reading in the Texas sunshine. After lunch and a few last minute errands, I curled up in my parent’s comfy bed and watched a movie. We ended the day with a sunset boatride, our pups jubilantly wagging by our sides, ears flapping in the wind. It feels strange to have this day of calm before the inevitable chaos of the next few weeks, but I am so grateful that we were able to squeeze it in.

Holy smokes, we are moving to Scotland TOMORROW! Life is crazy. And good. Life is crazy good.