At the beginning of the pandemic, my small family found ourselves living in a rental close to Lake Hollingsworth. At the time, our only respite from the confines of our tiny rental (Prison? Oasis? We weren’t sure at the time...) was a daily walk to the Lake. Our walk invariably took us past a house that I fell immediately in love with. Something about the house drew me in. Although the house was perhaps a little past its prime and needing a little sprucing up, it seemed obviously well loved to me.

Fast forward a few years… an estate sale…. at THAT house… I had to go of course… and I am so glad I did! It turns out the house was the childhood home of a friend. Who knew? Her parents bought the house 50 years ago and lived in the house for the rest of their lives. My friend Teri and her brother spent their childhood overlooking Lake Hollingsworth. This was home, no matter what else was happening in their lives, this was the place they could always return. As their parents grew older, and she and her brother’s lives got busier, the weeds took over a bit in the flower beds… the carpets were cleaned a little less… the kitchen never got an update…

Now they face the heart wrenching decision… what to do with Mom and Dad’s home? The estate sale is over. The furniture is gone. The family portraits and Mom’s tchotchkes are all divvied up. How do you let go of the home, without letting go of the memories so embedded in the foundation?

My beautiful friend Teri made the brave decision to allow me to attempt to chronicle it for her. To try to capture a little bit of the raw emotion that this season of life inevitably forces on so many of us. As we moved from room to room, she recounted some of her most precious memories. This is her story.