I feel like I’m in the minority when I say that I have only one childhood home. The house that I was born in is the house that I was raised in, and to this day is the house where my parents live. My family never moved. I guess that’s the bonus of being a part of a farm family – your work doesn’t move, therefore your family doesn’t move either.
But this Thanksgiving marked the end of an era. My parents are moving.
Granted, they’re not moving far… like approximately 400 feet into a new home on the same property… but they’re moving nonetheless. That means that my childhood home will soon be destroyed. Thanksgiving was the last holiday that we will celebrate there.
Maybe I’m feeling a little nostalgic, but it was a good house to grow up in. Sure, my sisters and I pretty much always shared a bedroom*, and we only had one shower for five people (including three teenage girls), but I didn’t ever know any differently.
*When I turned 10, I got my own room for my birthday. My parents even gift wrapped the door for me. Best. Gift. Ever.
Thanksgiving itself was the same as usual. We had a fabulous dinner with my family, followed by a trip to the movies on Thanksgiving evening (I highly recommend Catching Fire, in case you were wondering).
While Thanksgiving was pretty typical for my family, it marked the first major holiday my husband and I spent without my father-in-law. The Cotten family decided early on to skip a Thanksgiving dinner this year since Dorothy would be so young, but their company was definitely missed.
So, in the spirit of a true Cotten holiday, we spent Friday evening eating Arni’s pizza and playing games. Who knew my mom would be so good at Scrabble? Plus, Courtny cheated… like normal. 😉
House, it’s been a good run. Here’s to making new memories in a new home on the farm!