I have been absent from my blog(s) lately.
But, it is that time of the year again. On top of Curtis' 5th birthday, we are moving.
We live in a small townhouse right now. Craig works over 35 miles away and the commute is killing him, about an hour each way. In the winter it is much more brutal. In the spring when he works 80+ hour weeks, it will be much easier to be close to home.
But, this house. This tiny 2 bedroom townhouse. The walls have started to close in on us. We have two little ones. Two bedrooms. A dog. Toys. It is a great place, but it is too small for us.
We bought this townhouse in 2004. When the economy was okay, when buying was the smart thing because you could turn around in 2 years and sell and buy something bigger. So we bought a place we could reasonably afford and expected to live here for 2 years.
Two years has turned into seven. We tried to sell once, when I was pregnant with Curtis. We couldn't, so we stayed put.
Now, we are moving. Seven years later. We are renting a single family home. Not all that much bigger then what we have now, but it has 3 bedrooms. A basement for storage. A deck. A yard. A yard for the kids. 10 minutes from Craig's work, close to our families. (No more traveling an hour to see Craig's family!).
But....this is the house where Curtis lived. It is where he was created, it is where his heartbeat started...it is where he died. It is very weird to think about. So many of my memories about being pregnant with him take place in this house. Like putting the crib together in the living room and it not fitting through the doorway of his room. Creating his bedroom.
Walking through the door without him on June 1st of 2006.
This house is also the house where Claudia and Cole took their first steps. It is where we brought them home after not bringing their big brother home.
A house isn't where memories live, they live in the hearts of those who hold them. This house has had so much sadness, but so much happiness as well.