It’s a unique type of sadness, saying goodbye to pieces of one’s home. Admiring the kitchen you sacrificed so much to make beautiful and realizing mere months later you’re bidding it farewell along with your family.
Suddenly the inanimate objects become friends you’ll miss a great deal…
Goodbye throw pillow, you’ve been a great comfort and I’ll always find you beautiful.
Goodbye table. You’ve held my family’s meals, laughter and moments for such a lifetime of love. There is no gratitude big enough to give you. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry, back deck, because I know no one else will appreciate the asset you are, or the solace you bring. The stars look best from your embrace.
I’m sorry rug, and floor and family photos and moments and memories that hold my life… The good and the bad rest in the palms of your hearth and I’m sorry I’ve failed you.
That I couldn’t be the lady of the house you needed, to keep you beautiful and inviting.
I’m sorry dogs. My heart breaks at your sweet-faced devotion and blind love filled trust. There are days, sweet puppy of mine, when I believe you love me more than any human ever has.
Today I know this is so, and here I go, without you.
I’m sorry life which I worked so tirelessly to construct, which I just cannot keep up with any longer. I’m tired and scared and ready to try something new.
Goodbye grey sky and snow lined streets, streets in a land I’ve never cared for and the life there which I’ve never really been a part of. Hold my family close and love them. Embrace them and comfort them with your fireplace embers, evening television glow and the puppies I left behind. They deserve better than I can give here, or than I’m taking away.
Goodbye Michigan life.