The House Where Love Lives

A letter to the new owners of my former home

The kitchen where we spent most of our time

On June 27th, my family and I moved from the house where we lived for 18 years. As I write this, two weeks after we moved, that home strangely feels like a distant dream. It’s amazing to me how adaptable we are as humans. We are almost all settled into our new space, still figuring out a new rhythm and way of life. Selling our home, packing it up, and moving into a new place has been, simply put, consuming.

In the rush of packing up and moving out, I didn’t get a chance to write a letter to the new owners, which I wanted to do. We did meet with them a couple of times and showed them the inner workings of the house. As we passed over our keys on that final day, we presented them with freshly baked blueberry coffee cake from Modern Bread and Bagel and a Berenstain Bears book for their son, due in October. We told them that within the walls, there has been love and good energy. I may have teared up a bit; the woman did too. And then we walked out the door for our final time.

If I did take the time to write them a letter before we left, this is what I would have wanted to say…

A Welcome Letter

E & J,

Welcome to your home.

This is a house where love lives.

She is a good home. Steady, accepting, non-judgmental. She loves families and kids and dogs. She will love you. 

This home has felt like a magical bubble for us: safe, secure, light-filled, loving energy.

We came here when our son, Owen, had just turned one. (He is now 18.)

Two years later, we welcomed our daughter Piper.

This house has sheltered us from many storms – both physical and literal; financial and emotional. We’ve weathered them here, by the fire, at the dining table, gathering around the kitchen island.

She looks completely different now than the house we moved into – over the years, she’s transformed, she’s grown up, she’s evolved – as we all have within this space.

When we first moved in, people questioned our decision. We had moved from a modern, historic house that had a very sexy appeal. It was hip, it was cool. But, at some point, it was no longer right for us — and when we found this home we knew in our hearts that it was perfect and would serve us well. Even though she wasn’t hip or cool, and she wasn’t a beauty when we bought her, we saw beyond what was for what could be. Our imagination and vision was all we needed. And, our energy, too.

Piper learned how to walk here and said her first words; our kids learned how to ride their bikes on this street.

We heard both of our children read a book for the very first time within these walls. As Jonathan and I sat in the living room one day, we heard Owen reading out loud The Berenstain Bears: Clean House from beginning to end. We looked at each other and said, “This feels like magic,” hearing him connect the dots of letters and words. New worlds were opening. A few years later, we heard Piper read her first book all the way through from her bedroom, too – and turns out, she chose the very same book. 

We held our first dog, Scout, in our arms in the backyard as he took his last breath, ushering him across that Rainbow Bridge.

We started the annual block party that has become a beloved neighborhood event.

We embraced Owen when he came out to us one late afternoon when he was 12.

We hunkered down here during the pandemic and discovered a deeper level of closeness.

We changed jobs. We built a studio. We dreamed. We laughed. We got mad. We made up. We played music. We played games. We entertained family and friends. We hosted events and gatherings. We welcomed our new dogs, Penny and Murphy.

We held each other as we cried over the passing of loved ones. We watched the movie Elf every night-before-the-night before-Christmas. We “opened” The Grossman Cafe for every birthday, serving up a special breakfast complete with a menu and a numbered list (correlating with their age) of why we love that person. We ate “Mama’s Famous” (tortillas, cheese, beans, and eggs) at least once a week.

We created traditions. 

We learned how to be in relationship with one another. We learned how to be our own people. We celebrated each other’s victories, and we sat with each other when dreams faded. We listened, we debated, we encouraged, and we shared.

We created a life, together.

This is a house where love lives.

And now… this house is yours. She will adore you.

Sincerely,

The Gunning Grossmans