This house was my friend, in the end. Yet as Ryan says, we are leaving on good terms- with play dough tracked into the rug and crayon on the floor. With tiny tack holes from pinned up birthday balloons, and tape residue on the ceiling, where he stuck up "Will you marry me?" in glow-in-the-dark stars. It's done its part for us, and now it can do its part for others.
But J, please don't hang around too long here without us. The thought of that makes me sad. If we're leaving I want you to leave too. Find some adventure out there in the universe. But maybe visit from time to time, in a bright star on a warm night.