No, I mean that literally. The house in which I grew up, that was in our family for many years (no one knows how long for sure. Allegedly my great grandfather saw the guy putting the For Sale sign in the yard for it, asked him how much he wanted, and paid $3000 cash), where many of my friends came over and we played in the yard or inside, where I learned to shoot in the basement(!), where my sister Kathy taught me math and more, where my dad took out his anger at my grandmother (his mother) for bringing a rum cake to my birthday party when I was a little kid by splitting logs with an ax in the January cold and snow, where he passed away in 1998, and so, so many more things happened, good and bad, has been sold. The house gave me a chance to grow up in a great neighborhood, meet so many of my friends, and who knows what else. I think we were lucky to have it.
I wish we could have kept it but I can’t say I’m going to move back up there (too cold, too expensive, but I love to visit, it’s a great area). I wish I could have kept a lot of the things that were still in the house before we sold it but I don’t have any place for most of that and reality is, if I haven’t touched it in 30 years, why do I need it now? I have my memories, and I have my life, and it’s a great life. 
Thanks, house.
I sincerely wish all the best for the new owners.
