Select Page

This past 2 months have been a whirlwind for me! I graduated law school (which I was convinced was never actually going to happen), I moved home to Nashville (praise Jesus), we moved out of my family home (there was a lot of sweating and some tears), and obtained a rather large parcel of land with the intent of turning it into a cattle farm. Phew! 

It’s been quite the 2 months and so jammed packed that I’m just now getting around to unpacking my shoe boxes and realizing that my sweet home is, well, no longer my home. We had a good 20+ year run and a lot of memories – from kindergarten pool days to high school graduation parties to sorority Christmas parties, to getting ready for my rehearsal dinner with my best gals – we’ve packed a lot of life into these walls! And I thought I would share some of the funnier moment with you. 

So without further ado, here are the scenes of the various crimes of the Miller Compound: 

The kitchen where my brother penned his famous note, “I’ve run away because I despise piano.” Side note: he wrote this when he was 5 and we had no idea he knew of let alone could spell the word “despise.” He made it as far as the back door – a mere 10 feet away. The note hung up on our fridge until we moved out. I think my mom is having it framed as we speak. 


Next up, the kitchen island that my mom caught on fire when I was in the 8th grade. PSA: pine cones, while beautiful and very festive for the Christmas season, are flammable and should not be placed next to candles. You’re welcome.  


The back field that Brady and I accidentally caught on fire sophomore year of college. When the fire department came the nice man said, “We’ve been here before.” Like mother, like daughter, haha. But isn’t it so green and beautiful now? I think they should be thanking us, really! 


This here is my most hated part of the house. It’s the weird little stone column that separates the garage bays. I may or may not have run into this particular one not once but twice. Like I said, worst part of the house. 


The front door. The oddly colored, impossibly heavy glorious door through which I came and left home. It was so heavy that people would think it locked when they went to open it.  This has lead to more pantomiming “it’s open, just shove it!” over the past 20 years. You gotta push it, push it real good!


And finally, the spot where my mama tried to have my brother and I press our hands into the concrete out by the pool thereby cementing ourselves into the history of this house forever. Only little 2-year-old Gunnar didn’t get the memo that your hands were supposed to stay flat. He’d look at my mom sweetly, press his flat little hands into the wet concrete, and then close them, rising up with two fists full of the stuff. This happened around 4 times I’m told and then she just gave up and said, “It is what it is.” And you know, I think I like it more for its imperfection. I know my mama did! 


It’s a funny thing to move from your childhood home. Even when you and your family are so excited about the next chapter, it still makes you a bit teary to think that it’s over. But we did manage to pack a lot of life into this old house and I can’t wait to pack a whole lot more into the next one! 


With love, 





Pin It on Pinterest

Share This