Farewell Little Red Barn House

How do you bid adieu to a house?  A house that has been a part of your life from day one.  A house that is the very blood in your veins.  A house that you thought would always be there to go back to whenever you pleased.  A house so beautiful it makes you jealous to think another family will be living there soon.  Too soon.  

My heart will break into little pieces on July 31.  

That uneven brick driveway, the oversized azalea bushes out by the street, the rarely-used front door, the huge backyard that once housed Pop's vegetable garden, the tree I would swing from in the side yard, those times when there would be close to ten cars parked in the driveway and out in the yard, the time I found a baby garden snake slithering through the grass attempting to not be seen, the crunch of the leaves under your feet on Halloween night, the frogs that were always hanging around the side door, the outdoor phone on top of the refrigerator, the croquet set in the corner of the garage, the patio Pop constructed himself, the mornings we would sit out there and smell the Crosby air.  

There are so many things about that house I'm going to miss, and I know everyone in my family feels the same.  It has been a sweet, untouchable symbol and foundation for our family for over 50 years, and it's going to be so hard to let it go when July 31 is upon us, but we'll always have the memories and the pictures of all the wonderful times spent in that little house on Nightbird Trail.

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