Goodbye, First Family Home

So we begin with an ending - the day we left our first family home. We had been there for over three years, but it was time to move on.

After 6 hours of sweeping floors, washing windows, cleaning under cupboards and a fierce battle with the ice tray in the freezer, the house was ready to be inspected at 10am the next day. We arrived at the old house at 9am, ready to give it a last minute airing and vacuum the corners that I'd given up on the day before. However, a car pulled up just as we did. A nice car. The sort of car you don't see belonging to people who live in the area. He had a suit on. People around here don't own suits. They hire them for court appearances, or nick them from Primark. They don't wear them proudly on our street. This was an estate agent. And he was here to see us.
"I THOUGHT he said 9! I asked if you were sure, you said 10!"
"He said 10! He definitely said 10!"
"Clearly(!)"

The hushed bickering continued as we smiled and waved at the nicely dressed man.
"I don't want to go inside! I want to go back to Nanan's!"
"I'm going to nursery after my birthday!"
"Children, please!"

We let the nicely dressed man inside, and let him poke around our home. He was lovely, to be fair, and complimented us on looking after the house so well. I waited for him to leave for upstairs so that I could quickly wash the coffee coloured stain from the living room wall that I had suddenly remembered in my panic. Cloths and sponges were all packed, so the inside of my cardigan was sacrificed as a scrubbing rag to make the wall look better. I had liked that cardigan too.
"A few furniture scuffs - to be expected - but overall very nice."

After a brief chat about how ridiculous the renting fees were these days (which paid for your suit Mr Estate Agent, so don't complain), we were ready to leave. Our first family home. Three and a half years worth of family life. Ava took her first steps right on that carpet. And Dylan had his first proper birthday party here. It was the first time he'd ever been remotely poorly in his first 2 years of life, and he spent a lot of it napping. I remember it well. And we had our first family car on that driveway, and we...
Reminiscing would have to wait. It was time to go. We leave the keys with Mr Estate Agent, and leave for the last time. We pull out of the driveway, taking two attempts because the man-across-the-road always parks his cheap 4X4 bang opposite us. We drive past the house we hated, two doors down from us, who played music at all hours and ultimately forced us into the move in the first place. We leave the pot-hole ridden street and past the dip in the road that always floods in the rain. We leave the area, for good. I still feel sad that our family home had to be sacrificed for a better life, but all in all, I'm glad that it's done.

Now we just have to live with my parents for four days (surrounded by our belongings, furniture and junk) until we pick up the new keys. This is where the fun would really start.