We're in the process of selling the country house we've had for 17 years. It's hard. For all this time, it's been a place to take the kids when the city summers got too hot and they could run a little freer; a place to go without the teenagers when there was too much attitude; a bolt-hole from the stresses of parents in dementia and other conditions. We all know that it's time to move on: we don't use it much at all and none of the kids seem to be interested, but it's hard. There are a lot of memories in that place, and even when we're there to clean up and clear out, there's the sense of quiet and calm and away-ness that is absent in everyday life.
Within a couple of months of settling in, we put this picture on the kitchen wall:
It's exactly why we went there. It's hard to let go.