My family and I are moving from Los Angeles to Miami this week, and I’m having a really hard time letting go of our house. Just so we’re on the same page, our home is no Million Dollar Listing-style mansion by any means. In fact, it is so “compact” that it doesn’t have enough space to comfortably fit a dining room table, which means that our only hosting area is outdoors (at a lovely table I recently sold on Facebook Marketplace, RIP). It has a front yard in lieu of a backyard, with two huge trees that house a very cute racoon family between the months of July and September. And yet, it has beautiful double-height ceilings and a perfect layout and a million memories attached to it that make it so hard for me to give it up. In a way, it is not the house as much as what it represents: our first real home together, the first two and a half years of my daughter’s life, our California chapter.
Adieu, Californication
Adieu, Californication
Adieu, Californication
My family and I are moving from Los Angeles to Miami this week, and I’m having a really hard time letting go of our house. Just so we’re on the same page, our home is no Million Dollar Listing-style mansion by any means. In fact, it is so “compact” that it doesn’t have enough space to comfortably fit a dining room table, which means that our only hosting area is outdoors (at a lovely table I recently sold on Facebook Marketplace, RIP). It has a front yard in lieu of a backyard, with two huge trees that house a very cute racoon family between the months of July and September. And yet, it has beautiful double-height ceilings and a perfect layout and a million memories attached to it that make it so hard for me to give it up. In a way, it is not the house as much as what it represents: our first real home together, the first two and a half years of my daughter’s life, our California chapter.