Mine was moving in to my current house. See, when I was a baby my parents divorced and my monther moved down here with her parents. We lived here with my grandparents for many years before my mom go ther own place. Eventually my grandparents moved out of this house and after a few moves were in a house right around the corner from ours. Anyway, at some point after college I was at lunch with my mom, her friend, and my grandmother. The friend says to my grandmother, "So your old house is for sale." The conversation went along and then she said, "I wish I knew someone who wanted to buy it." I had been quiet, but I just said, "I do." I really hadn't thought about buying a house nor did I really think I could. I had a great job though and it was a good time to buy.
Anyway, a week or so passes and I am asked if I was serious or maybe we could at least go take a look at the ol' place for fun. We did that and, well, I couldn't resist it. This simple brick house with an addition that my grandfathrr built, two big pecan trees that I used to climb, and the pool I spent entire summers in. The memories flooded back - some things had changed, but some things had not at all - a light fixture that was still there, those sliding closet doors - they brought back memories. This was the house I grew up in. This was my home.
I got it together and made an offer. I had heard there had been another offer though and I needed to up my bid a little. I said okay, and then waited. It was a long Saturday and I didn't want to go home to hear if the call had come in (before I had a cell phone). I would have been crushed if I didn't get it. I did eventually go home, just a bundle of nerves, but my mom gave me the good news. So, here I sit, in the same room I shared with my sister as a child, now my comic book room/temporary home office. I love living here. Some of the neighbors are still the same people too! I've never felt like I belonged anywhere else.