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As I am preparing to move, I realize I am going to miss this house. For better or worse, it has been my home for several years. My daughter grew up in this house, and my son was born here. Every wall is painted in colors I chose (for the most part, all shades of yellow). I picked the cabinetry, hardware and door knobs. I selected the wood on the floor, and the carpets in the bedrooms. I arranged the furniture. I have spent days each week cleaning and maintaining.

I realize now why I was so hesitant to leave. It is not the house’s fault that it happens to be the casualty of my mistakes. It did not ask to be built where it is. Had it been anywhere else, perhaps I would have stayed and fought for it. It is simultaneously spacious and cozy. I am comfortable here.

He no longer stays here, but when I move out, this will be his house. It is best for the children. This is where they will come to see their dad, and they will continue growing up here part of the time. I am not big on complicating things. There are things I will fight for, and there are things that are just not worth it. Besides, in divorce battles, no one wins.

My first house I gave to my first husband. My second to my second husband. I think I will just rent from now on.

But yes, I will miss the house. I will miss how I made it mine. But that is alright. I will find home again. As Tina Dico sings, I will find “true north.”

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