goodbye park street

My parents closed the sale on my childhood home today, the home where they lived for 31 years, the home where they began a life together pregnant with me, the home to which Tyler, Mariah, and I were brought home from the hospital, the home that has the door jamb measuring each of our heights until we left for college. It's the home where we celebrated 30 Christmases, where we searched for eggs and jellybeans outside on Easter and always found an Easter basket in the dryer, where we sat on the stairs for timeout, and where we played baseball, built treehouses, and had sponge fights in the yard.

It's momentous, and yet it feels right. We love their new home, so welcoming to a growing extended family, and it seems like the right place for the next chapter for my parents. But still...