I visited a home in San Carlos today and the seller had this story posted for everyone to read. I found it moving…
Although I was “born” in 1969, my story really began 13 years before. One spring day, a young couple looking for the perfect spot to raise a family, came down the lane. They had seen many, many properties but the woman knew the minute she spotted the majestic oak that this was THE ONE.
Don’t you want to see the house first asked the man, referring to the little, two-bedroom house that was, at the time, the only one on the property.
“Yes”, replied the woman as she plopped down under the oak, “But it won’t matter. I already know this is our home.”
And so it was. Soon they welcomed their first child, then another, and so on. The little house was bursting at the seams. But there was room to grow- underneath the grand oak tree. I swelled with pride when my family moved in. the eldest, on the verge of becoming a young woman, loved her private balcony and hiding away in the library that held shelf-after-shelf of her favorite books. The little red-headed boy chose the largest room because it looked out onto the huge yard he loved to explore, particularly his favorite plum trees that he knew would provide years of climbing and juicy plums ideal for neighborhood battles. The littlest, a brown-haired girl, was tucked away in the smallest bedroom, bedecked with a brand-new canopy bed that made her feel cozy and provided the perfect cave for her collection of much loved stuffed animals.
So, our life together began. As the years went on, I was filled to the brim with love, laughter, song, tears, and heartache –all the joys and sorrows that life brings. I embraced my family and loved watching them grow and change. But, one by one, the children began to leave. I was sad, but I knew that no matter what house the moved to, I was always Home. I was the place that held the Christmas tree; I was the kitchen that cooked Thanksgiving turkey; I was the pool that hosted birthday parties. But as time passed, their visits were less often, the couple stayed with me, but it became clear the others had, at last, found their own perfect homes in which to build new memories.
And one day the couple looked at each other across their now – empty table. Their bodies were bent and their faces weathered. They new, and so did I
Time to pass me on to another family, to build their own lifetime of memories, underneath the branches of my sheltering oak tree.