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On Saying Goodbye to an Old Friend...
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My grandparents were some of the first to move into a neighborhood that was once just acres of citrus groves, nestled at the foot of a mountain in the Valley of the Sun. Packs of coyotes and wild peacocks still roamed through the ground-grazing branches, but the view was breathtaking (and they were the kind of people who saw hope in the promise of a new life).
The home they created over 50 years ago is the very same one where my mom and her siblings sprouted up, and our family has been firmly planted happily on the corner of sixty three thirty three ever since.
Over time her walls have grown and changed along with the people inside, but this week she’s sitting empty for a spell, as my parents move to fresh soil in a land far far away.
(Their new spot is precisely ONE block to the North… Let’s hear it for baby steps, right?)
What a blessing it has been to see the next chapter of their lives unfurling in front of them, and I only wish I could shake the (selfish) feeling that my roots will no longer have a chance to return to their favorite place to call home. The past few days my eyes have been filled with morning dew, and between sweet messages from friends and late night heart-to-hearts with Brother - One might think I were grieving the loss of a dear friend instead of that ranch-style home on the corner.
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She knew me when I was a toddler… Waddling after mom around her flower beds, and learning how to swim (without floaties) in the splashy blue pool. Dad tossing goldfish crackers into my open mouth when I made it across the shallow end with no help, and singing me lullabies while we swirled around in the shallow end under after-dinner starlight.
She was there when I was a kiddo… Digging for treasure in the cracked Arizona clay. Making ant farms with soup spoons and dixie cups, then cooking up potions of rose petals and jasmine over my toy kitchen stove. Countless hours spent exploring the world between those oleander branches - just me and my shadows in the wilderness of my own backyard.
She watched me grow into a girl… Learning how to brew sun tea on the patio with Meema, and letting Bompa steal the scene with magic tricks at every birthday. Twenty-nine Christmases with the exact same stocking in hand, and a quiet place to cry when I learned the secret about Santa (that sadly did not happen until age 13... *ahem*). Despite that sadness, I can still picture the wind chimes and bird houses hanging in the eaves, welcoming a renewed sense of wonder with each passing breeze.
She was the perfect spot for a teenager… Pulling toilet paper from the trees every Saturday morning of Senior year, sleepy-eyed from non-slumber-parties fueled by innocent neighborhood pranks. Listening to girlfriends pour their hearts out on our porch swing, or slinging daydreams and grand plans as we sprawled out on the giant trampoline. Sneaking kisses from boyfriends by the waterfall in the backyard, while learning that firelight always makes you feel much braver than you really are.
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We free spirits need a firm foundation to push off of, and the sun-baked soil of that land has been home-base for every moment in my entire life. (This girl may appear gloriously untethered to some, but beneath the surface - I seem to have left a few strands of my heartstrings behind.)
As I look back on what has made it feel like such a special place, I can see that the magic comes from more than just the lush landscaping or the inviting layout - It comes from the parents who stood in the doorway with open arms, the aunts and uncles who can still do back-flips in the front yard, and the sibling who still starts every Christmas morning snuggled up in my bed.
My haven amidst this great-big-world belongs to anyone who has ever joined us there, and I’m thankful for the hundreds of special people who have gotten to experience it as their own: a spot to share laughter with loved ones and a launching pad for great things.
They are the ones who will help us bring heart to the new place, because I'm banking on the truth in that old saying about your home following close behind. [Click to share]
Thank you for letting me share my treasured memories with you here today... Will you tell me about a time when you felt uprooted by a move (big or small)? Trading stories always makes it clear as daylight that we’re not alone. ;)
XOXO - Jessie Pepper
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ART WITH HEART: This print seems perfectly appropriate for my folks today... Sending Mama + Papa big hugs and many prayers for a smooth transition this week!
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Know someone who would love to join us at the table?
Forward this letter along, and proclaim that the party wouldn't be the same without them!
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