It’s Time To Say Goodbye.

After nine years, it’s time to say goodbye to this house. Not just the walls, windows, and doors—but the life we built inside it.

I’ll miss the home where…

…we played board games on Sunday nights and laughed so hard my cheeks ached and tears rolled down my face.

…Wesley dragged home junky cars, worked on them in the garage, and somehow sold them for more than he paid.

…Christmas morning with wrapping paper everywhere and abundance in physical and emotional.

…I dug my hands into the dirt of our little side-yard garden—grew lettuce and butternut squash and more cucumbers than any one family could eat.

…Keegan and Briggs shared a bunk bed with a slide, and bedtime meant stories snuggled up together.

…we played Corn Hole in the backyard at dusk, barefoot in the cool grass that we somehow kept alive in the desert.

…Briggs learned to land his first front flip on the trampoline.

…we spent a year locked down, just us, figuring it out one weird day at a time.

…my husband and I faced hard things—things we didn’t expect—and found our way through them together.

…every July 4th, we sat in lawn chairs in the driveway and watched fireworks explode overhead like the whole sky was putting on a show just for us.

…I watched Keegan on stage, over and over, becoming Scuttle and Captain Hook and Grandpa George and Tom—each one unforgettable.

…We threw birthday parties, ugly sweater parties, graduation parties, any excuse to gather.

…where light filtered through the living room windows and danced as the sun set.

…we said goodbye to grandmothers, feeling the ache of loss.

…I woke up to hot air balloons overhead, the sound of fire loud and close, their presence magical.

We lived here. Really lived. We loved each other fiercely, lost things that mattered, and tried to do this whole messy, beautiful life the best we could.

Thanks for everything, Albuquerque. You’ll always be a part of our story.

—Alison