I saw it in my mother's eyes the first time she said goodbye to a 7-day-old Katherine and went back home.  Kennett was no longer her home.  Where ever her granddaughter was, was her home.  Four months later, she had left her current job in Arkansas and had found a new job and apartment 15 minutes from our house.  Two months after that, my parents put their house on the market.

I knew it was coming.  Not just because of the look on my mother's face when she kissed Katherine goodbye for the first time, but also because there was nothing keeping my parents in Kennett.  We didn't have any other family in the area, and my brother and I had both ended up in St. Louis.  Now with a grandchild in the mix, where else would my parents go?

Now, one year later, my parents' house is sold.  Anyone who has ever had to clean out all of their stuff from their childhood home knows the emotions that can come with it.  (And if you follow me on Instagram, you've seen some of the packing shenanigans.)

We moved in to this house in the summer of 1996.  I had just finished the 6th grade and was in the midst of the junior high awkward phase.  I still remember the giddy feeling I had the first time I stepped into my brand new empty room.  The house was centrally located, a lot closer to my friends' houses, and originally built in the 1940's, but had undergone many renovations and additions.  My bedroom was gi-gantic (You can read more about my love for my childhood bedroom here.) with a huge walk-in closet, "Jack and Jill" bathroom, and French doors leading out to the pool.  I mean, really.  I still get chills when I think about that closet.  I'll probably never in my life have a closet like that again.

Looking at our empty bedrooms gave me the giddy feeling again, and also the pain of sadness.

{Looking into my room from my brother's room.}

{That closet...}

{Looking into my brother's room from mine.  My heart catches in my throat when I look at this one.}

{That view.}

{Saying goodbye to the pool.  This was my spot for 18 years.}

Eighteen years, and many pool parties later, it was time to say goodbye.  Packing up 30 years of stuff that had accumulated for 18 years was not easy, physically or emotionally.      

{Moving day.}

{"Keeping everything"}

{The old shopping cart came in handy.  My brother obtained it years ago, legally of course.}

{Goodbye old friend.}

{Goodbye College Avenue.}

Though Jason's family still lives in Kennett, visiting will never be the same.  Handing over my keys was like the final scene on F.R.I.E.N.D.S., brutal.  As Katherine and I drove away for the last time, "Goodbye to You" by Michelle Branch came on the radio.  No.  Lie.  I cried all the way to the interstate.

Goodbye Kennett.  On to the next adventure.