Ugh! I still regret selling my little craftsman house almost two years ago. Although my family is in a much larger property, I still pine for my tiny old home and neighbors along side of it. I've tried to get over my regret, but to no avail. It has gotten to the point where I don't even want to go to the old neighborhood because I know that I will shed tears over it. I think I need to get a hobby ;)

Yep, I wanted to buy my grandparents' house. I love that little house. I moved a lot too and no place seemed like home more than that house. My uncle owns it now and he rents it out. It wouldn't sell because he's planning to move there himself in a couple of years. But yeah, I know just how you feel.
My bedroom was teeny tiny. It was slightly bigger than my current walk in closet. But it faced the woods and the east and in the spring mornings, the sun would come flooding in and the leaves murmured in the wind. It was lovely.

Thanks for posting this and hang in there with their move.

I sold the first apartment I bought in August. Even though I was going to a much better spot that was a better fit for my life today, it was emotional and sad to leave a place I had lived for so long. That place had been such a source of comfort and strength for me.

When I was ten, my grandparents moved from their home - I walked around the property, visited all the rooms.... but my last stop was the pantry. I loved the smell of my Grandmother's pantry. I knew that the fragrance was something I couldn't photograph or really take with me - so I just stood in there for a few minutes before we had to go.

My grandmother passed away this past summer, and her home is on the market now. I want with all my heart to buy it, but it's in another city from where I've made roots, and I cannot afford 2 mortgages. It breaks my heart, but without grandma, the house is not a home. I inherited her living room furniture (1950's style) and have incorporated it into my own space, which I feel is a great memorial to my past and my future.

My in-laws house. It is an amazing Cratsman Bungalow w/ a huge wrap around porch. I met my husband on that front porch & have amazing memories of hanging out with him and his little sister (my friend) and our buddies there. It is right on the the main street of the small town where I grew up and each Saturday night was spent hanging out on the porch waving to the series of honks from the "main drag". Too many barbecues to mention in the back yard and feeding my precious little niece her 1st meal in the desperately-in-need-of-a-renovation kitchen. That niece is now 19 yrs old! If we could figure out a way to make a living in that small town, we'd buy that house in a heartbeat but some other lucky person is going to nab it for $250,000. :(

when i moved from Ottawa 6 years ago, i spent a long time standing on the balcony before i left my apartment one last time. even though it was February 27th and bitterly cold in the wind whipping down from the Gatineaus, the sky was clear and the Rideau Canal was crowded with skaters. i looked out over that view that i LOVED from my 19th floor aerie with the flag atop Parliament snapping in the wind and finally tore myself away from it.

i've never been back to the city.

even though i've been able to become a home owner here in London (Canada) where house prices are low compared to Ottawa and Toronto, that view stays with me.

I moved too often to become nostalgic about any one home, even though in my heart I am the type of person to become nostalgic about a home. A strange combo that actually hurts sometimes, or makes me angry, or whatever that irrational feeling is that moving conjures up. But it does help keep things in perspective - the items we surround ourselves with are just things that will not last. We can't take them with us. But memories, oh memories... they are parts of our soul.

We have lived in our San Francisco home since 1974.
Renovations started on day one, and I worked on something house-related earlier this morning.

The backyard was originally a foot deep layer of black asphalt - we removed it bit by bit over the course of three years (by hand) using a miner's pick ax.
The fig tree we planted in 1978, that now has a 10" trunk, started life as a two foot whip-thin branch we took off my father-in-law's tree in Phoenix after his funeral.

Selling the house would make great economic sense, but it's really never going to happen while we're still capable of making that decision, because walking away from over 30 years of sweat equity and emotional commitment would suck the life out of us.

I am struggling today with saying goodby to a lovely home we have lived in for 6 years in Hawaii. I look forward to every morning looking at the ocean and tropical plants, I see beauty everyplace I look, at every moment of the day and night. The full moon over the Pacific and nearby islands is breath-taking. It never gets old. Every day there is something lovely to see and enjoy. We rarely leave the house since even it and our yard are enough for us.

We remade it into a comfortable home, and now we are saying goodby to it and the islands, returning to the mainland. It is the right thing to do, but I know this is the most beautiful house I will ever live in, and the most beautiful place that I will ever know.

There are only 6 years of memories here, and as many unpleasant ones as good ones. But for sheer beauty and as a way of life, we have been more than happy. I'm not quite sure how I will move on from this.

My younger cousin just bought my Grandma's house for her first place (Grandma needs some help and my cousin's family needed a home..). While I think my cousin probably could have bought a nicer, more updated house, I'm secretly pleased that even when my Grandma passes, the house will still be in the family.

You are not alone, I totally get where you are coming from. May I make a suggestion? Once you have taken pictures and momentos and the move is complete, don't go back. I have found going back to be just too sad. It won't be the same and quite often new owners do something that is heartbreaking. My cousin Austin bought my grandmothers house and I just know he's going to hang confederate flags as curtains. I took her vintage green frog planter and put it on my deck. It's very her and makes me smile every time I see it.

This article reminds me of the last scenes in Toy story 3.

My childhood home of my first twenty years has been sold and the new owners appreciate that it was a loved and happy family home. As I write this, my step siblings are cleaning out the last parts of the house of my adult phase of my mother's life. Last week I was doing that job and have e one more trip to make to the house my children called "Grandma's toy house," it was so stocked with playthings,
Anna and her pantry memories brought the tears to my eyes, I loved my aunt's pantry and often stood inside it to breathe in the spicy unique smell that I never found anywhere else. Anybody need some beanie babies?

My parents are selling my childhood home this year to move up north and be closer to us. We moved in in 1992, when I was 9 years old. I moved out at age 19. I realized the other day that I lived in that house for exactly 10 years ( to the month!) and have now lived out of that house for almost as long. It makes me well up to think of them selling it. I think of all the "firsts" that happened there. I think of my brother passing away, and how I can remember every second and every detail of being in the guest room and hearing that news.

But then I remember that we can never have everything *just* as we want it to be. Something has to give. And for me, my parents are getting older, and I love them so very very much. Selling that wonderful house will be worth it, because that means we'll get to be closer -- having dinners together, running errands, playing with grandbabies -- and just living.

My family moved every few years, which was more frequently than my friends’ families did, so I don’t have one mythical childhood home. I do have one great memory of coming home from summer camp and walking into a new home with a gigantic living room, with sunlight pouring in through a wall full of sliding glass doors. And I loved playing with (and secretly naming) the neighborhood cats who wandered into our backyard.

Aside from that, my dad’s parents had a great home in NY that my sister and I would visit each summer. It had a hot tub in the basement, a tree house in the backyard, a sloping side yard, a kitchen nook that looked onto the yard and a row of trees, and chocolate stashed everywhere. I loved going there, it felt so comfortable.

Anyone see the latest episode of The Good Wife?
In it, Alicia returns to the old family home, which is on the market. She's viewing it, considering a purchase, but mostly reminiscing about her family's time there in happier days. The clincher is when she opens a closet (pantry?) door and sees the old height marks of her kids pencilled on the wall. It brings a tear to her normally unemotional eye.
A bit hard to believe that the current owners wouldn't have erased/painted over, but still a poignant moment.

I wish this piece gave the writer's name so I could address her (or him) when I say that it brought tears to my eyes.

I've lived in some wonderful houses and apartments and miss all of them. But the place I miss the most is the house my parents lived in after my dad retired. It was in the Sierra between Oakhurst and Fish Camp and about 10 miles from the Yosemite National Park gate. It was set among huge old oaks and pines and was about a 10-minute walk from a small lake. I have never felt more relaxed than I felt there, and it was a wonderful place for my daughter and her cousins to have fun together. My dad was a master carpenter and his wonderful work was everywhere in the house.

My mom sold the house after my dad died in 1992 because it was too lonely there for her. She regrets that decision and so do I. A few years ago, I learned that it is now owned by two artists from the Monterey area who plan to retire there. I have been in contact with them and they've invited me to stay there. But I don't think I can. I think I would cry nonstop, both about the house and my dad. It does comfort me that two great guys love the house as much as I do.

So, author of this piece, I understand what you're feeling.

I rarely visited my grandparents, instead they visited us. My many homes as a military child blurred in my memory decades ago. Always hoping the next place would be better minimized sad goodbyes. I learned early that you can't really go back or keep up ties, and never tried to return. Probably my experience most similar to that posted was extended homesickness for Nebraska after being moved from there to Florida at about age 12.

Taking photos of the things you love in the house is a great idea. I wish I had done the same with my grandmother's home, although I don't think my mental images of it will ever fade. I've moved so much in my life that I'm not too attached to most of the places I've lived, but there are a couple that hold a special spot in my heart.

I grew up in an old farmhouse in the country with nooks, crannies, creaky floorboards and wood stoves. My family sold it when the last of us went to college. 15 years later if I can't sleep, I walk through the house and remember each room in my mind. I have a small apartment that my husband, daughter and I call home. Sometimes when I my daughter curled up in my childhood bed I realize that I'm now creating a place she may one day drift off to sleep remembering. Homes do hold feelings - what a lovely line.

I forwarded this to my husband for just 1 month ago, he too said good-bye to his grandparents home - the only one they'd had for his 41 years. We had a champagne toast and then he walked around the house feeling the wood and the textures of the walls. It's a loss he will always carry with him. This piece is such a lovely written work about a topic many of us experience but don't talk about much.

My family just sold my childhood home of 25 years, and I havent even driven past it, cant bring myself to, since.

My grandparents house sold some time ago, but it had 40+ years of history, and was very hard to let go of also.

Memories are in the heart though.

I did take pictures of our house the entire time we have lived here, to share with friends and family. You can see them here: 750mililaniplace.com

Last year my grandma sold the house my grandpa built by hand, after my grandfather's death. It was the right decision, but I too pine for the "toy closet" and the small circular pool, and the little pink sewing room that I slept in. She was able to sell it to a small family that took over my grandpa's job after he retired so it does feel full circle in some way.

I did not get a chance to say goodbye to the house before it was sold, and I really wish I was able to. I have to remind myself that the memories of those special places reside in my heart. Nothing can change that.

As I was reading your story, I felt like it had come out of my own thoughts. I moved a lot growing up too, and although my grandparents havent moved yet, there has been a lot of talk about it in past years. It's really hard to let go of the one home that was always constant in my life. I even talk about moving to Atlanta just so I can keep the house in our family :(

"I moved a lot growing up — I don't have a "childhood home" to come back to, but I've always had my grandparents' home. In the 29 years I've been alive it has changed very little; part of why it pains me to say goodbye is the fact that I will no longer be able to visit my younger self."

Are you me? That's just about my precise experience growing up too, except my grandparents sold their old home when I was 27 instead of 29. I still miss that shag carpet, the pocket doors, the wood paneling in the den and the blue butterflies with gold foil wallpaper in the guest bathroom that were the surroundings for so many happy memories growing up. *sniff* Their new place... it's just not the same.

I moved a lot as a child, but my grandparents always lived in the same house. I spent a lot of time there, and always saw that house as my anchor. It has been 8 or 9 years now, but that is still the house I think of when I think of visiting them. I wasn't able to help them when they moved (same when my mother-in-law moved from my husband's childhood home after my father-in-law died), but I did get to say goodbye, and I was always kind of happy that my final memory of it was of the way it always was.

I have so many things around my own house that remind me of my grandmother's decorating style. She worked with a local artist, Gwen Frostic, for many years as her assistant, and I have a wall full of her prints hanging in my entry way. In my dining room, I have the painting of the view of Lake Michigan from their backyard, that they gave my father many years ago. They always used mismatched old Fiestaware, and for many years I did the same (although mine were newer). And I know birds are trendy now, but my grandfather has collected bird statues for many, many years, so I have always had bird things around.

On the other hand, we recently moved out of our own first house. We had many happy memories (it was where my husband proposed to me, and the place we brought two of my daughters home from the hospital), but so many unpleasant things too, and horrible neighbors. I was a little sad about leaving, but our new house felt so much more like home, from the very beginning, than that house ever did. I feel like we could spend the rest of our lives here (as the couple who owned it before us did). I remember talking to the daughter of the people who owned the house before us when we bought it, and she said she grew up here and loved it, and I was glad that the last family was happy here, and I hope it will be to my kids what my grandparents' house was to me.

It's probably no surprise that the type of people who like to look at Apartment Therapy are also the type to feel nostalgic for homes with strong memories and associations.

I grew up in a sprawling mid century modern walk out rancher my parents built when they found out they were pregnant with me, their fifth child. Although I moved out at 19 my parents sold our home when I was 34. Until that time I always had a key and the alarm code. It was the only place, other than my own, that I never knocked or rang the bell, but just went in. I never stood on ceremony and waited to be asked if I wanted something to eat, I just helped myself. It was home, an extension of my parents and the love they showered on us.

A few years ago I was fortunate enough to design and build my own home. 3000 sq ft on three levels. Every design decision was one that I made. I absolutely loved living there. Sadly, although I had no mortgage, I had given a personal guarantee to a bank as security for a real estate development I was doing and the crash of '08 forced us into receivership. Long story short I lost everything. I will never forget my last walk through that home. Ultimately I was thankful for the amazing time I'd had living there. So, it made me really accept the inevitablity of change. It also forced me to examine my priorities. While I had been thankful for all the things I had I realized it's the love in my life, my freedom and health that are more important, and I wouldn't trade them for all that I had lost.

Saying goodbye to my grandparents' house was so hard. It was like a second home to me growing up. It still shows up in my dreams, though...

Thank you for the beautiful piece. It did make me cry.

I'm currently in the process of having to clean out my parents home of 28 years. While it's not the home I grew up in (they sold that when they retired and moved to California) and it's only a rented house, it is filled with happy memories of a very happy family. My dad just passed away & now I'm all that's left. (My mother & brother pre-deceased Dad). I'm having a hard enough time of dealing with the stuff inside of it, but now I'm also freaking out about having to say good-bye to the house. I know it's just a house, and just a plain house at that, but it feels like it's the end of my physical ties to my family. I know that is silly -- I have my own house filled with some of their stuff -- and I have tons of photos and memories, but man, it's hard to let go.

Thank you again.

Man, this post made me have an emotional day.

QUOTE: While I had been thankful for all the things I had I realized it's the love in my life, my freedom and health that are more important, and I wouldn't trade them for all that I had lost.

Ahhhh....but it's not 'loss'... rather consider it's 'growth'. And the memories are secure for a lifetime....they can't be stolen;) My parents died 3-1/2 yrs apart and I just sold the house in which I grew up. I cried real tears but it brings me joy to know there'll be kids' laughter in that house again. I can live with that.

This post made me cry, I haven't had to yet, but I know the time will come not too long from now to say goodbye to my grandparents house. They've been there over 50 years and I grew up less than a mile away, so it's always been a second home to me. Almost nothing has changed about it in my life. I hadn't thought to make a video of it, thank you for that idea. Next time I go home I'll be doing that. My parents are probably going to be selling their house within the next few years, too, they've been there 16 years, since I was 10. I'm dreading them selling it.

That is my childhood bedroom in photo...my home...my parents moving out....and my daughter who submitted the article. Sarah, I am forever indebted to you for sharing this intimate and precious memory with your readers and for poignantly revealing emotions that I could not find words for.

My parents just let me know they will be putting their home on the market soon. It is a home they moved into after I was gone, and I have never been attached to it. This article and these comments reminded me how important it will be for my sons to go back and say good-bye to this house. Thank you all for helping me to remember how important place is.

Trying to remind myself about all the things I didn't like about the house I sold last year, and there were many, so many that I don't miss the house itself, but I can still remember all the ruts and clumps of stubborn weeds I had to step over on the narrow back path that I took out to the chicken coop at dusk. I still crave like air the sound of the ocean and the cold moist breath of fog through the open window at night (I've moved to a dry area of the mountain west since) and today while hovering in a doze taking a nap, I 'heard' the squawk of a night heron, something they don't have here.
Unlike others I do enjoy visiting places I used to live, recognizing that everything changes including me. It's a joy to find that one landmark that remains -there's a particular 7-11 store in the neighborhood where I was a kid, everything else is unrecognizable except street names and house numbers, but the corner store is identical to my memories from the mid-seventies.
Attach to nature when you can, the ocean isn't going anywhere, and you can still come home to it to visit, and dream about moving back if it comforts your soul.

I've been thinking about this so much lately because we have just moved our children across the country to a new home for the 5th time in 7 years. Such is military life. I often wonder if it's a happier childhood to stay in one home (as I did until I went away to college) or if happiness can be found in each new location. I'm a bit of a worrier, so I worry that my kids will lament the lack of a "family home" when they're grown. My childhood memories are mostly about the house I grew up in, my neighborhood, and the same group of kids from Kindergarten through high school. I worry that my kids will miss out on that type of memory. I worry that my kids won't have an answer to "where are you from?" and that it will somehow make them lacking.

So, yep, I worry and think it might be nice to put down roots somewhere, but who's to say the memories of late night root beer floats wouldn't be just as wonderful if they we're served on the old table in the house in Tulsa with the ugly awning instead of the yellow kitchen in San Antonio? Not me! 'Cause if there's anything I've learned in all the years I've been saying goodbye to houses, it's that the memories go with you.

My parents have moved several times since I graduated from high school so I have no connection to their current house. My paternal grandparents house is the one that will always stand out in my memory. They lived there for 36 of my 37 years. Christmas 2010 was the last time I was there--they've moved to an assisted living facility (both are in their early 90's) and the house has been sold. I really thought I'd have one more time to say goodbye to the house but wasn't able to make it back before it sold and that makes me very sad. My maternal grandparents have lived in their house since I was 15 and that one will be hard to say goodbye to as well.

I said a tearful goodbye to my condo in Tokyo last year.
My husband and I sold it because I was so scared of huge earthquakes would happen again.
I still regret that we sold the condo because there are lots of good memories there. We got married and had lived there for more than 8 years. I had just lost my cat I love the most in my life just 9 days before the earthquake 311 hit Tokyo. I lost so many I love. I won't be as happy as I was then. But life goes on. Sadly.

Just said goodbye last week to the first home I ever owned. I lived there for 12 years and renovated it from top to bottom myself. Many things happened to me during my time there. I even got married while living there. My husband and I said our tearful goodbyes but are thrilled to be starting the next phase of our lives as well as ambitious new projects.

We're always leaving ... something. There's something so poignant about leaving a home: the laughs, the sounds, the smells, the conversations, the creaks, the imperfections, the people, the times. But it's true, you can never go home again. Each room holds the past, each floorboard the memories of people who walked by. We don't realize the precious moments as they happen. Who'd have thought that the shrill cry of "Long distance! Get the extension!" would ever be missed? Or that double bang of the wooden front door screen which never closed on the first push? The squeaky tread on the stairs and the chipped crystal doorknob that always fell off the closet were annoyances when you lived there but now produce wistful sighs.

I've lived in many places, left many places behind. I even sold a home to friends - and when I enter their home, I gawk at the places that used to be mine but are now indelibly imprinted with their lives -- despite my wild wallpaper still wrapping the walls. Cherish the memories, and live for the future.

Oh man. Way to stick a knife in my heart, Sarah.
My great-grandparents' home recently went on the market after 60 years in our family.
It's the house where my sister and I had our first few Christmases, back when my dad's huge sprawling Irish family was young enough to fit in one place.
It's where we'd walk when my Grandma was my babysitter and it was nice out - we'd go visit my great-grandparents. Gram in her kitchen or in the living room, and Pappy quietly tying flies in the basement, listening to a baseball game on the radio.
After Pappy died and Gram couldn't move around the house any more, my uncle and his family moved in. This lead to a host of new memories like playing foosball in the basement with my cousins.
For a while, I had dreams of growing up and raising kids in that house, and having their first Christmases there, in front of that same fireplace where I had mine.

And now, after my uncle and aunt's divorce, the house went into foreclosure. It's been difficult. Really, truly difficult. I'd talked to my uncle about the possibility of renting the place out (to save it from foreclosure, keep it in the family and get me living in the house of my dreams), but it didn't work out. And now it sits, mostly empty, with a "For Sale" sign in the yard, and me in no position to buy a house. It'll be a cause of heartbreak until I know for sure there's nothing I can do about my dream house, and then I'll get my mind working on a new one.

We'll be selling the house I've lived in from age seven to twenty-five at the end of this year. Yeah, that's going to be fun... *sigh*

When my parents moved into the house in which they currently call home we found a letter in the attic written by the previous owners thanking the walls for protection.. it was a touching read and gave us an instant appreciation and love for our new abode. For a place to become a 'home' is a precious thing.

Oh how I can relate to this post except it was my parent's house that I had to say goodbye to. My parents passed away within a year of each other and my brothers and I had to go through every single item in the house. So many little things held so many memories. The butter knife that spread so much love for so many sandwiches made for school lunches (kept that!). The original oven that baked so many amazing pies and butter tarts mom made from scratch. The linen closet where mom would hide sweets.

I remember going through the house once it was empty thinking the last time it was like this was when my parents bought the brand new house and must have been so excited to have their first home and start their family. I wish it was bought by another family but alas it was a small two bedroom bungalow (yes three kids raised there) on a large lot and was torn down for a monster home. Only the cedars dad planted at the property line remain. Each year I go through the home in my mind scared that I'll forget this special place that holds so many memories of first dates, heartaches, love and laughter.

Your post about leaving a house hit me, it was beautiful. Once, I forgot to tell a house "goodbye" and had to return to bid farewell to our former home. It inspired a poem:

Goodbye House

The trouble with moving is that one time,
in my haste to move, I forgot to tell my
house of ten years “Goodbye,” never knowing
this would bother me, but it did.

It became imperative to return and I drove
many miles back to the old abode, remembering
while on the journey all the sweet and
good times that happened there as well as
the sad ones we all endured.

Once I arrived, and pulled my car to the curb,
I said farewell to the façade
of our former shelter, knowing my attachment was
to the moments I cherished in my heart
not the bricks and mortar of its four walls.

I dread the day my parents decide to sell my childhood home. I beg them to never put it on the market because I am so attached to it/ the memories. From the moment we moved in their hard work went into renovating it. I love this house.

Sarah- This is beautiful. I did the same thing to this house yesterday. I walked each room, and even the rock house, saying goodbye. This house holds most of my favorite childhood memories, ones I will never forget. Thank you for this perfect post.

I've been crying for what feels like months over the agonizing decision to sell my house. I've lived in many places, many apartments, and many houses in my short life (I'm 29), but this was the first place I've ever owned...and the first place that, truly, is woven into my soul.

I fell in love with it before it was even for sale. It's a 1907 Victorian in a town on the Ohio River. It has ALL of the original (unpainted!) woodwork, fireplace mantles/tiles, transom windows, pocket doors, plate rails, picture rails, butler's pantry, crown molding, etc. etc. I got it for an incredible price and over the last four years, I have filled it with my favorite things, my favorite people, and my favorite smells, music, and colors. The backyard was almost all concrete and gravel, but I busted my butt to turn it into an urban farm of sorts. Raised beds have allowed me to grow hundreds and hundreds of pounds of organic food for myself and my friends. An area ground that was not rocky was turned into a circular medicinal herb garden. All of this was overseen by an ancient holly tree--the arborist who repaired it after a devastating ice storm told me it was the largest, most beautiful holly tree he'd ever seen.

I bought this house with high hopes that the surrounding neighborhood would improve, but things have only declined. I fell in love with a man who is a musician and needs a place to record, but there's so much ambient noise surrounding the house, there's no hope of getting a good take. There's also a good deal of crime in the area now. In a total twist of fate and serendipity, I found out that a farmhouse about 8 miles outside of town is in foreclosure and practically being given away by the bank...it's a farmhouse I noticed on a drive several years ago and felt a very strong attraction to. Things are falling into place. Even in a terrible housing market, in a less-than-desirable neighborhood, I have several people clamoring for my home (and I haven't even put a sign in the yard). But...I'm incredibly depressed to leave this place. The farmhouse is amazing and I can finally realize my dream of having a market garden to produce specialty heirloom vegetables...but it also needs a ton of work to restore it to its former grandeur. I've spent a long time making this house my own, and I love it dearly--as does everyone else who walks through the door. It's a house that says "home."

I suppose I'll stop crying once the deal is done and I'm sweating over my new farmhouse...but it's definitely a very, very bittersweet parting, and while I'm excited about what lies ahead, I can't help but cry every time I think of the gorgeous fireplaces and other lovely details belonging to someone else. :(

I'm curious if you have found anything to help you with your regret. I am in the same situation. We sold our small little house 2 years ago and I still miss it more than anything. The regret of our choice is very hard to get over.

I live in the house I grew up in starting in the 2nd grade and have only lived elsewhere for a couple of years. My parents are still alive but live elsewhere. I'm having a real problem with the idea of having to sell this house in order to move to Hawaii (wife's desire). I am extremely sentimental and worry that I might go off into the deep end after the move.
This house feels like it is literally a part of me
I also worry that living in paradise 24/7 might make it less special and I'll become very, very home sick. Add to it I currently see my aging mother about once a week. Hawaii would reduce those visits to a couple times a year. What to do.
If you are still around soozie, I'd like to hear how you are faring since your post.