Three bedrooms. Two baths. A house I grew up in. A house that should last.

I remember running down the halls, chasing after my brother.

I remember the ice cream sundaes and cannonball competitions.

The Christmas trees that we set up and the time it snowed at Thanksgiving not all that long ago.

Grandpa’s old chair that we’d mess around in. The smell of Grandma’s cookies in the hallway.

Now it’s being sold. I know it’s for the best. Deep down everyone seems sad.

It’ll be different. A change. The holidays won’t be the same.

No more Thanksgiving adventures with Grandma and Grandpa. No more playing in the pool when we should have been asleep.

They were moving. Nicer house. Smaller house. Unfamiliar house. The sales sign seemed to taunt everyone. Catch their eyes and saddening them just a little more.

This wasn’t just a dream. It was happening. And the sign forced them to believe that.

Snow covered the ground. I’m here now. In the house. Watching my brother and father fight with balls of white snow. Mom and Grandma are baking scones like they said Grandma and her mom did many years ago.

I’ll miss this house. And everything in it. I’ll miss the old chair.

The couch I always slept in even though there was a perfectly good bed.

Pool and water battles.

I’ll miss everything about this old house. The new one will be an adventure.

A fresh start.

A change.

A house that will last.