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Just a hint of regret
Muted Real
wilowisp
We have moved. And in the midst of the ticking clock, I thought to try to record my final thoughts while in our former home - the place that we shared seven years with family, friends, and each other. It was the place where we brought our pups into our lives, where I proposed, where we fought and reconciled, where we had lavish dinners and lazy meals in front of the TV.

Time had other ideas, and before I could blink, I found my life packed up into a rental truck and ready to be brought across the city to a new house. A new place to try to make home.

It's not home yet. There are too many boxes and unexplored corners. The pups are ill at ease with the strange floors and the unexpected angles of light. Routines and habits balk at trying to set down roots, in the face of so much to unravel and so much more to maintain. But it will be home at some point, when we wear our laughter and fear and quiet contentment into the woodwork.

There are things I will miss about the townhouse. A bedroom that catches the morning light. The view of downtown, especially on foggy days, when the tops of the towers seemed to disappear into glowing mist. Walking to work. Peering over the railing of the stairs into the main floor rooms. Knowing, just by the sounds, where my husband was in the house and that he was never really more than 30 paces away. All the bright colors we paraded on the walls, banners of the vibrancy of our 20s. And for now, the white noise of the freeway outside our window.

And there are things I will not miss. The throbbing bass of the neighbors' music through our shared walls. The ancient wrought-iron gates. Popcorn ceilings. Windowless walls and the long shadows they encouraged. Above all else, the knowledge that home was not the home I wanted to bring up children. We would have made it work, should the sale not have come through, should the adoption plans have moved along quicker. But all along, I would have felt like it was just making do until we could bring them somewhere else.

This is a home I want children to grow up knowing. This is a home I am ready to make.

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