When I was growing up, there were four places I had called home by the time I was 15.
For the last 42 years, there had been only one for my parents. Until this summer.
It's now in the hands of someone else.
For four decades, my parents lived in a home originally built to house them, myself, and my two siblings. Three years after we moved in, I went to college, leaving it for four inhabitants (and me, the first summer after college).
By the 1980's, it was just my parents. Then, when my mother passed away nearly five years ago, it was just my dad. It wasn't a case of my family outgrowing the house, it was the house outgrowing them.
Last spring, the "for sale" sign went up in the front yard. It could not have been a better time, because the glacier that was the nation's housing market has finally experienced its own form of "global warming". The house sold in less than a month.
At the end of July, my dad moved into a condo in a community just a few miles away from the old homestead. I haven't been inside yet, but it looks nice and he's happy with it.
The old home is now owned by a couple who, I understand, wants to start its own family. They may not have found a better place to do so.
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