Echoes

As the house begins to empty, they grow stronger.

Echoes of the memories that hover in all the rooms of this house that is becoming less ours and more theirs every moment.

The corner of the kitchen where Casey proposed, and the floor that we laid on minutes later – laughing and dreaming.

The kitchen table where Monday night dinners with Stacey were eaten and many games of Heroclix, Yahtzee, and Taboo were played.

The bedroom that was green, and then blue, and then beige. As it went from his, to ours, and now to theirs.

The bathroom drawer that hid our one and only positive pregnancy test for months after we had already lost our baby, until I was strong enough to throw it away.

The deck where many starry nights have been witnessed, enjoyed, and cherished.

My eyes are often teary these past few days as each belonging is put in a box, each particle of dust gets swept away and every memory packed tightly in my mind, my heart, my body.

This house is part of our history, our story – us.

But it’s time for it to be part of their history.

In days, just a few moments really, its front door will simultaneously open to the next chapter of their lives, and close this chapter of ours.