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The other day as Dad and I were sorting through some of the things at the house, he remarked to me that he would be happy when you both finally moved out this week. He was glad to be getting rid of the burden that the house had become. I just smiled and nodded, but inside my heart twisted one more tweak as I turned away to wipe away an errant tear.
The thoughts and memories that swirled in my my mind that evening finally settled down long enough for me to put them into words. The house deserves that much after 37 years. I for one, understand fully that all things change, but I indeed feel a profound loss as the house becomes emptier each time I visit. It breaks my heart to know that tonight when I stop by it will be the last cup of coffee we will share in the kitchen that had always been the centerpiece of our home.

Even I after having moved more times than I can recollect in the last 26 years, realize that home is where the heart is. But regardless of where I was, how far away or close, I always knew that there was steadiness of the home port.
Driving up on any given day, with its cheerful yellow facade and tended flowers in the walk always steadied me even on the gloomier days. Something solid about having a home to come to. Something solid about the memories built, grown and harvested there.
And there are plenty of them.
I remember the day we moved in, it was my birthday, things were so hectic you let me choose my own gift that year, the martian play set. I played with it on the back patio by the sliding doors in the shadows of great yellow earth movers that were still digging out the development.
I remember the first morning flames leaping from the frying pan as mom cooked breakfast over an electric stove for the first time.
I remember our first Christmas there and most of all "Queenie". I really loved that raggedy black dog as she danced around just happy to be with a family that wanted her.
I remember playing stick ball with Eric Schwartz on the side of the house, hitting towering home runs over the highest of the electrical wires across the street.
I remember helping when we put in the pool and feeling so proud when I finally learned how to swim. I would swim countless laps around.
I remember playing horseshoes and whiffle ball with Dad and Uncle Frank at the family cookouts when we got our pool.
I remember Aunt Anna chuckling as she sat there in the chase or at the picnic table watching all and enjoying a cold one.
I remember

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