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  • Writer's pictureKrista Kokot

The House That Built Me

Today I took a chance. Stepped out, and told myself the answer is always No unless you ask

I asked

Walked up to the door of this house, after 7 loops around the block (stalker much?) knocked on the door, shaking, secretly praying that nobody was home

Mom answered the door.

Shit. Now what do I say.

“Hi my name is Krista, I’m from Calgary, Alberta, this was the house my dad grew up in, my grams lived here, my favourite aunt and uncle were here; and continued to mumble for the next minute .....saying something about this was my safe place growing up.... Is there any chance I’d be able to look around inside”

She asked me a few more questions to make sure I was telling the truth, proceeded to open the door and let me in 🙏🏻 Walking through this house filled with copious amounts of loving memories brought on wave after wave of emotion. Tears fell moving from one room to the next

The Mom (Rebecca) either thought I was nuts or legit.

I saw my dad in the kitchen fixing something that needed attention

I felt my grammas presence in her room, as I would snuggle up next to her, fall fast asleep as she scratched my back with perfectly shaped nails & have the best sleep of my life

I heard my sisters laughter as we ran up the secret staircase behind the kitchen wall

I played with my uncle Dale in the backyard with his boarder collie (Sport) asking me if I wanted to go for Ice Cream - which the answer was always yes.

After the walk through - hugging Rebecca - I slowly walked to the car, allowing the waves to hit hard

I sat & cried. Cried and cried some more.

This... my friends ... is all part of the healing journey to freedom, love, grace, gratitude, compassion

I believe We must be willing to face the hard, sad, Real-ness, real-mess of our lives in order to move forward in our most authentic selves!!

Xoxoxox thanks for reading.

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