They say you can never go home.
But last week I did.
I went to the house where I used to live before Thistlewood after the first house we ever owned before the house I grew up in.
Oh good, me too.
Here’s the Reader’s Digest version of my life.
Girl meets the cutest pair of sparkling brown eyes.
He marries her and moves her around the country to 457 different apartments.
They have two boys.
They buy their first house.
They have twins.
They buy this house (the one I am about to show you that I just photographed at Christmas).
They leave this house jump to the middle of the country in Kentucky and buy Thistlewood.
They jump back to Texas and buy the house that the girl grew up in.
I thought it might be fun if I showed you where it all started.
The house before Thistlewood….
….all decorated for Christmas.
But before we get started–in complete and utter transparency….
….I wish I could tell you that the house looked this cute when we lived here.
You have no idea I want to tell you that this is exactly how I decorated it with every fiber of my being.
It looks so much cuter than I could have ever imagined when I lived here.
The new owners, Becca and Bryan—the ones we sold the house to all those years ago—still live here.
They are amazing.
And brilliant decorators.
And we are still friends.
I stop by for coffee and hang out at their yard sales and go to parties at their house.
I can remember being worried after we sold it.
All those emotions. All that time. All those events.
I thought the house was gone forever.
There was so much life lived between these walls.
The twins took their first steps on this floor.
Denton lost his first tooth on the back porch.
The twins had their first princess party on this back porch.
Zack used to layer up skateboard ramps and ride up and down this floor.
Our black german shepherd, Noel, used to stomp her muddy paws all over this porch.
So many memories.
So many hours of joy.
So many milestones.
Each and every one lived within these walls.
I thought I would cry the first time I walked back in.
I thought I would mourn the loss.
I braced myself.
I prepared my heart when she opened the front door and I stepped inside.
But I wasn’t sad.
Not even a little bit.
Not even for a moment.
I was full of joy.
I couldn’t be sad.
Because THE HOUSE WAS SO HAPPY.
It was living with a new family.
It was wearing new furniture and going to new parties and painting itself new colors and shining its new floors.
And making new memories.
And new friends.
And living its best life.
A Christmas card from me to you…
…of a house well-lived.