My parents recently sold their 6-acre home of 22 years to downsize into a more manageable space, a lovely condo closer to town. This past weekend, my husband and I returned to help with the impending move. Although I didn’t grow up here, I spent my senior year of high school in this house, summers and holidays during college, as well as several months in between job searches and travels…not to mention, countless visits home since I’ve been married. Through all this time, I’ve still had my own bedroom. It’s had slight transformations over the years as my mom made subtle changes, a new chair here, a new picture there, while winter coats and wool blankets slowly took over the closet. The single bed from high school was replaced with a queen-sized one during my college years, and then traded in again for an antique, four-poster from my grandparent’s home, the inevitable consequence of a death & subsequent move to independent living. The one constant has been the bedroom set made up of a dresser, tall chest, nightstand and “make-up” table. I managed to hold onto on a couple of drawers and shelves across the years filled with stacks of books and photo albums, mementoes from my travels, a wedding gown, veil and fancy shoes. For the most part, nothing drastic has changed until this weekend when we boxed up the rest of my things to bring back to Philly, gave my bedroom set away for its new life in another home and put the four-poster into storage. All that’s left is a mattress, some lamps and a few chairs.

I didn’t think it would bother me. These changes. The loss of this space. The closing of one chapter, the beginning of another, and on the surface, it hasn’t. Yet, as I walked around the house on Friday night, I found myself hostage to bittersweet memories and overcome with nostalgia and wishing, in that moment, that the folks would stay put, allowing me to hold on to the past before family holidays dwindled in numbers as my grandparents passed away and my sister moved abroad, or before we’d lost Max the cat (my soulmate) or Abby and Ben our canine replacements. Later on, as I lay in my Poppop’s four-poster bed, I took a moment to record my thoughts in my journal and embedded my image on a memory card. After shooting my reflection, I snapped off a few random pictures of the room from this vantage point and went to bed.

The thing about changes, good or bad, expected or unforeseen, is how they push us towards something new allowing us to redefine our space, or maybe even our place in the world. It can be like shedding our skin…or maybe daring to look “pretty in pink” like kristin~mainemomma did by adding a little something special to her hair…

136 :: pretty in pink

…or having the courage to move forward, despite being tired, into a new job, in a new state after losing a family business of 38 years like 6ftmama

its beyond my control.....
…or maybe, as I found out, it can be simply giving away the bedroom furniture you’ve had since you were 10. So even though my space has changed, there’s a new one waiting for me across town. And although we’ve lost some family members, in just a few weeks, we’ll be getting a visit from the new ones we’ve gained. My sister comes to visit with her two children, and my parents have just picked out a puppy for their new home.How about you? Any big changes taking place in your life now?
Holly ~ Soupatraveler