Neala & Lincoln,

I can’t quit crying. 

No seriously. I can’t stop. 

Maybe it’s because I just had a baby and my hormones are still on a roller coaster. 

Maybe it’s because I’m running on little to no sleep. 

Perhaps it’s because I got an infection and the antibiotics the doctor gave me make me even more sick. 

Maybe it’s because I’ve been packing instead of napping. (And by packing I mean bossing my friends & family and telling them what to pack)

Maybe it’s because having another baby makes me miss my daddy horribly. 

Maybe it’s because the last two weeks have been nothing short of crazy, hectic, hormonal & overwhelming. 

Maybe it’s all of the above. 

Tonight is the last night in our house. Only it’s not just a house, it’s our home. 

Neither one of you will have memories of this home, you’re both too small to have collected any. But I’ve got a heart full of the good, bad, ugly and beautiful. 

This was the first home your daddy and I bought together. This was the home we brought you both to as newborns. (Lincoln, you are technically still a newborn. You aren’t even three weeks old)

Neala, you learned to walk in this home. Daddy and I clapped like crazy when you started wobbling around the living room floor. I figure by now you’ve probably run 128,000 laps around the island in the kitchen. 

  
You’ve both peed & pooed on our already worn out couches. 

Your hungry infant cries have pierced through every square inch of this home in the wee hours of the night. 

Your sweet baby aromas gently flow through every room. 

  
But you two are not the only reason I love this home. 
Countless friends and family have walked through our front door. We’ve shared meals and laughs and life together. 

My heart is full of memories I made here with my daddy. He taught me how to caulk a bathtub here. He helped me dig up bushes, install a garbage disposal, and fix a leaky sink. He and I put together Neala’s crib. 

  
In the spring months your PawPaw and JoJo would come here after church every Sunday to eat lunch with us. After lunch JoJo would stay inside to play with Neala. He and I would go outside and pull weeds, plant flowers, or when he became too tired we would just sit on the porch and talk. 

I know we will make more memories in our new home. But tonight I unashamedly cry for the ones made here. 

Your father isn’t nearly as emotional as I am. His emotions run consistent and steady while mine tend to swing to epic highs and lows. But he mentioned tonight he was a little sad to leave. His face became a little sad and I could see him reflecting on the past five years. 

Then in true James Doyle fashion he was over it. He smirked and asked if I would cry this much every time we moved. 

Yes. Yes I most likely will. 

There’s an old song I remember my sister singing. I looked up the lyrics tonight. It captures my feelings quite well. 

“If these old walls

If these old walls could speak

Of things that they remembered well

Stories and faces dearly held

A couple in love

Livin’ week to week

Rooms full of laughter

If these walls could speak
If these old halls

If hallowed halls could talk

These would have a tale to tell

Of sun goin’ down and dinner bell

And children playing at hide and seek

From floor to rafter

If these halls could speak
They would tell you that I’m sorry

For bein’ cold and blind and weak

They would tell you that it’s only

That I have a stubborn streak

If these walls could speak
If these old fashioned window panes were eyes

I guess they would have seen it all

Each little tear and sigh and footfall

And every dream that we came to seek

Or followed after

If these walls could speak
They would tell you that I owe you

More than I could ever pay

Here’s someone who really loves you

Don’t ever go away

That’s what these walls would say”