Life as a House

A few years ago, we moved from Montreal to Boston. The time between our decision to move and the actual move was so quick; it was as if we fled like thieves in the night. We literally arrived in Boston the day before our girls were to begin their new schools.

Not ideal.

But we made it work as best we could.

We settled into temporary quarters while we looked for a place to live more permanently. Since we had arrived with just the clothes on our backs and a few suitcases, our house in Montreal remained completely intact...

with sofas and beds...

and tables and lamps...

and towels and dishes..

and artwork and knickknacks...

all a 'living' testament to a well-loved life and home. 

For the next few months, I travelled between our new life in Boston and our old life in Montreal - checking in on the house that was now up for sale. 

I remember the first time I entered our house after being away for so long. The moment seemed sacred - like entering a long forgotten tomb filled with sealed memories and secrets.

I hesitated a moment, recalling the home that had been so filled with energy...

and music...

and laughter...

and tears...

and milestones.

As I stepped inside and closed the door, the first thing I noticed was the silence.

It was deafening. 

Venturing forward I began to breathe life once again into the space between the walls. Memories came forward to greet me as I moved throughout the house. 

The silence, however, was ever-present...

following me like a shadow...

beckoning me to paint a picture, in my mind's eye, of the family who once called this house their home.

Intrigued by this notion, I began to move with new purpose and with fresh eyes...

eyes that now saw what had been invisible to me before.

The house that was our home held the biggest treasure of all...our identity as a family:

who we were...

what we valued...

how we lived, and...

what we wanted our lives to mean.

What a gift to be able to view our life from such a perspective. 

That was a few years ago now. Since then, our "home" has been packed up and relocated to a Boston storage unit where it has remained while we renovate the house we finally found and purchased (that is another story for another day). 

I suspect that when I begin to unpack our 'old lives' yet again from those time-capsuled boxes, I will be gifted with a new opportunity to truly reflect on who we are now, what we now value, how we now live and what we now want our lives to mean.

A lot has changed.

I have a new perspective on how I choose to live and create my life. 

So as I unpack those boxes, I will take the time to consciously choose how and with what I want to fill my new home; some items will remain and continue to be cherished, others I will respectfully release. 

Life as a house, indeed.

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