Coming Home

Dear readers,

What a joy to write again. I’ve missed you.

So much has happened, I’d love to fill you in! Over the last year, my husband and I have been working behind the scenes to buy my parents house from them. As most of you know, my mother died in 2019 from Stage 4 Breast Cancer. My father was living in their house, the one they’ve been in since 2004, and it became so hauntingly lonely for him. Two years ago, he met a lovely lady and he wanted to move out and be with her. Coincidentally, my husband and I wanted to leave our house in the city and move back here, a safer and quieter neighborhood. So last January (2024), we did that. The big shift happened for all of us! It was exciting, and also so very soaked in grief. New chapters like this are now both of these truths.

But it became clear pretty quickly that it was going to be an unstable arrangement unless we actually bought the house, instead of renting it from my dad. We needed assurance that if anything should happen, we wouldn’t be forced to move out and rip my child out of his school district. (I won’t bore you with the family dynamics and legalities here. It was *fun*) Anyways, long story short: this past January (2025), our dreams were realized and we bought this house!

You may have seen me talk about it a little bit on TikTok. It’s been a very emotional journey for me to say the least. This is the home that I picked out when I was 14, and my parents wanted me to feel comfortable in the house we chose when we had some big family drama happening at the time. It was between this one, and one down the road. I got to decide which one to put an offer in on, so I’ve had a big attachment to this space for a good 20 years.

I can’t believe that after having this stable force in my life for so long, it’s now where I am able to raise my own son! It’s been a journey home in so many ways. This home is what has held me in my highest and lowest moments. It’s where I got ready for my prom. My graduation. My wedding. It’s also where my mother was sick. Where she died in our arms. Where we collapsed.

Where I’ll rebuild.

I’ve been trying to really collect my thoughts and categorize my emotions surrounding this new chapter, but honestly they run the gamut. One minute, I see a memory of my mom dancing in the kitchen as I lip sync to Aretha Franklin’s “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” and us both laughing hysterically. And the next second, I see my little 3 year old son digging in the pantry for snacks. It can be a jarring juxtaposition of chapters layered onto one another in the same physical space, along different timelines. It’s almost as if the previous chapters never happened. How could they have? They’re so far away. And yet, it was all right here.

In the years that my dad lived here by himself, after he lost the love of all of his lives, the woman he would have traded places for— he let the house get into a state of disarray. It was Covid, it was grief, it was darkness. The backyard was overgrown. There were loose papers and random items strewn about the house. There were untouched rooms for years. It was a lonely and haunting existence for him, and also for our collective family home.

It’s been about 18 months of living here, and taking care of this home has been the most rewarding experience of my life, next to having my son. Every time I trim the overgrown laurel plants out back, every time I paint a room, every time we plant perennial flowers…it brings us both, me and home, back to life. Together.

This is where I rebuild my inner home.

Love always,
Annabelle

P.S. I hope you can forgive me for my absence, but please know that I am working on something very exciting to share with you all!! Subscribe for sneak peaks, early access to launches, and this monthly newsletter! xoxo