The house is sold. The new house bought. The closing date is set (Jan. 21st). Movers hired. All that is left to do is pack and prepare myself for leaving my home for the past nine years.  I’ve never lived anywhere long enough to become emotionally attached to a location and so this is a new experience for me. This is what our house looked like when we first bought it:

When David and I bought that house we had $10,000 in savings and thought we were rich.  We were young newlyweds and this house seemed HUGE.  David was so excited about home ownership that the day we closed on the house he immediately ran to Home Depot, bought a lawn mower and mowed the yard.  People assume that I’m sentimental about the memories we made here with our kids, but honestly, I’m more misty eyed about David and I being young and married without kids.

It was during the first six months of our marriage that I stood in our bedroom folding laundry.  I don’t remember what started the fight and indeed I don’t even remember what the fight was about.  What I do know is that it was heated and we were shouting at each other and I was folding socks with noticeable passion.  David let out a loud “AAAARRGHH!! YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY!!” and stomped off down the hall towards the front door. I then heard a loud BAM! And then David exclaimed “OH SHIT!” Feeling absolutely no sympathy for whatever problem he created for himself I shouted back, “WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?” David paused and then sheepishly responded, “I punched a hole in the wall.”  David is the least violent person I know. As a matter of fact one of the things that attracted me to David was his gentle, calm spirit even in the face of adversity.  This sudden outburst of violence was so uncharacteristic of him that I thought he was joking.  As I started to walk down the hall towards him I shouted, “ARE YOU JOKING?” and at this he started laughing.   When I arrived where he was standing there was about a 5-inch diameter hole in the wall.

The wall in our brand new house.

The wall that was right by the front door.

The door through which our 8 dinner guests were going to be walking through in about 5 hours.

We looked at each other and I muttered, “you’re an idiot. You know you have to fix that now?” David quietly nodded.  We both stood in silence looking at the hole for a moment and then started giggling.  David turned to me and said “please don’t tell anybody tonight that I punched a hole in the wall.” I instantly understood his embarrassment.  David is not at all the kind of guy known for violent or angry outbursts and he knew what he had done was childish.  He didn’t want any of his friends to know.  I understood.

Our first guests arrived for dinner and as they stood in the foyer Chris, the husband, said “hey, what happened to your wall?” David and I hadn’t discussed an alibi and so I stood silent.  David jumped in and said “oh, I was hanging some pictures and the ladder went into the wall.” We all stood looking at each other. Chris smirked, nodded and said “dude, you punched a hole in the wall.”  Busted.

David patched the wall. His first drywall patch job and it was beautiful. To this day you can’t tell where the hole had been.  And yet, I can’t walk past that spot without thinking about that hole. The hole that the new owners know nothing about. The hole that was symbolic of that first year of marriage. The hole that taught David and I that sometimes laughing at your argument is far more productive than fighting in the first place.

When I think about leaving this house it is those memories that I will be the most sad about leaving behind. Lazy Sundays watching football together. Collapsing on the couch together after a party.  Laying in bed worried about living without an income or not getting pregnant. David and I spent the first nine years of our marriage in this house – laying the foundation that one needs to weather the storms of life. It is these early years of navigating our differences, our strengths, our love that I will be sad to leave behind.