At the end of December, this family gathered to celebrate the holidays together for the last time in the house they called home.
They grew up here. They took their first steps, lost their first teeth, went to their first school dances, and had their first heartbreaks within its walls. The mosaic brick steps were covered in their footsteps. The aged, white paint arched elegantly off the window frames— a tell-tale sign of the time that had passed. Time in which lives were born and stories were told.
They laid their traditional holiday feast complete with painted china, etched wine glasses, and spruce branches. Four generations together in this shared space. They stuffed stockings, opened presents, sang and played strings, and ended the evening with a dance party on the deck as dusk descended and the string lights began to glow.
There’s magic in evenings like this. The kind that sparkles in your memory and warms your heart. This family will move on from this place. But for the lives that were formed here, it will always be home.