Our Childhood Home Has New Owners

After celebrating a fantastic birthday on Sunday, I took a trip to New York, where my brothers and I moved our parents out of our childhood home.

We had a lot of good times in the 32+ years we spent there. 

It was the lynchpin of family parties. Some of my fondest memories are from Christmas. Both sides would come over for a full day of food and festivities.

There was one Christmas — I was probably 9 — where my brother Phil and I slept in the Living Room, next to the tree. Whoever put the gifts under it did it without waking us up.

We have life-long friends in our neighbors. People I still think about today.

We used to play baseball in the front yard. As we got older, our next door neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Davis*, would let us extend the field into their yard. They didn’t care that we pelted the side of their house with tennis balls.

I remember that every time I see kids playing in our neighborhood.

My friend Matt introduced me to Star Wars. My brothers and all of the kids our age would play manhunt throughout the entire neighborhood. We’d go back into the woods and play paintball.

That house has seen so much fun, joy, sorrow, and everything in between.

I don’t often post things like this, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t say anything about the house I grew up in.

My brothers and I had an incredible childhood. That house and our parents gave it to us. ??

I’m going to miss it dearly. I hope the next family loves it just as much as we did.