I love this house we're in. I had a vision and made it come true. From the wooden corbels on the exterior to the vine covered courtyard...this home has my fingerprints all over it.

It started nearly six years ago; I was surfing around, checking out homes for sale in our beloved town. We weren't in the market, but I also didn't want the home we were in to be our last one (mistake number one). I stumbled upon a spec home in a neighborhood of which I was unaware. It looked interesting; my husband and I popped our son (who was then four years old) into our car and zipped over to check it out.

We loved it and the neighborhood so we soon contacted the builder. That home had just sold, but they had other lots available...soon we'd picked on across the cul-de-sac from that original house, talked with their house architect, built our dream home on paper. And then on real land.

As the months went by, we drove by pretty much every day to check on progress. They've leveled the lot! The foundation is laid! Oh, it's been framed! The windows are in! Roof is on! Tile's installed! Appliances are hooked up!

We came to be friends with the people who had purchased the home across the cul-de-sac, the home we originally had been interested in. We started to hang out with them and bonded instantly over our shared dry wit and love of obscure trivia. We spent a holiday together before we moved into our new home, "I can see the future...every free Saturday night will be spent together," the husband proclaimed. We all laughed, knowing it would be so. And it was...we approach each holiday season with, "Will it be your house or ours?"

And then there was the glorious day that our moving van stopped on the west side of town, grabbed our belongings, and moved to the south side of town. This house we built was turned into a home as we arranged our furniture, photos, and all the things we'd accumulated.

During that first night in this home my husband, our son and I slept in a make-shift bed in the family room. I awoke looking lovingly out the huge windows at the row of mature oak trees along our back lot line. Life was good.

I then went and peed on a stick, and life was even better. I was pregnant. With my daughter, who is now almost four.

My son started kindergarten a half year later; I was swollen with pregnancy and proud of it. My daughter was born a few months later and I only missed three weeks of my volunteer time in his classroom; my husband picked up the slack. We indeed hung out with our new neighbors regularly. Holidays became a question of whose home this time? We became close to their extended family as well, we vacationed with them, attended each other's momentous family occasions. We joked about being one big family.

Our puppies are littermates...that solidified (at least in our less sober moments) our familial attachment).

Their kids got older, our finances got tighter. They became busier due to driving to a multitude of sporting and other functions, we became more recluse because we couldn't afford to spend money on anything but the necessities. Those Saturdays when we were all free became further and further apart. We still got (get) together on holidays. “We're family,” we joked, “We only see each other during the holidays and on vacations."

Today we had a showing; it was at seven-thirty pm. We ran to the grocery store and when we returned they were still milling about our home. We parked down the street and watched and waited. Twilight was looming and I closed my eyes. Not long after I was sucked back into reality with the ringing of my cell; it was our Realtor telling me that they'd left the home and were milling about on the sidewalk.

With our neighbors. Our Realtor went on to explain that the people viewing our home were friends with our neighbors; their daughters are best friends. It was quite dark by now but as the crowd moved down the sidewalk I could see their silhouettes. They walked from our home across the cul-de-sac to our neighbors' home. And they all went inside.

My throat constricted and my eyes were immediately blurry. I felt...replaced. I thought of the countless times over the years that our families walked that exact path, laughing and patting backs and holding each other's children's hands.

I'm not just leaving a home, but also a life full of traditions truncated. New traditions will be made, but the ones not to be...they will be mourned.