When the clock struck midnight on January 1st, 2025, I stepped into a new house.
Not a literal one of bricks and mortar, but a year alive with possibility.
From the outside, it looked like just another year, just another beginning. But inside, House No 2025 had its own heartbeat, welcoming me with every corner, every window, every wall that would come to witness the life I lived within it.
Living Through the Seasons in House No. 2025
Over the months, I lived here like I meant it.
I wandered through seasons of discovery. Those sudden “aha!” moments that felt like sunlight flooding in. I moved through seasons of joy, the kind that fills rooms like morning light. There were the quieter seasons too, with evenings of sighs, heavy hearts, and conversations with myself that stretched past midnight.
House No. 2025 saw me at my best and my breaking points.
It held my laughter and my tears. It witnessed the peeling away of old layers and the celebration of small victories. And through it all, it never judged. It simply held space.
Decorating, Stripping, Transforming
I decorated House No. 2025 with new habits, rituals, and intentions. Some stayed, others didn’t.
I added colour with laughter. I hung memories like artwork. I placed hope like scented candles in every room. And when life demanded honesty, I stripped things down. I removed beliefs that no longer fit. I folded away patterns I had outgrown. I aired out stories that needed sunlight.
This house changed with me because I changed inside it.
The Walls, Windows, and Door
Every corner taught me something.
The walls, silent witnesses, held my secrets, my truths, my softest confessions. They carried echoes of things said aloud and things whispered only in my heart.
The windows were my clarity. They let in light on days when I felt foggy. They showed me glimpses of a future that felt possible, even when I doubted it.
And the door.
Ah, the door. It protected me. It stood guard when I needed boundaries. It opened only for those I chose. Those who respected my space, my spirit, my soul.
This wasn’t just a house I lived in. It was House No. 2025, and it was where I became myself.
The Final Walkthrough
But growth has a way of letting you know when it’s time. And now, as the year draws to a close, I can feel it in my bones: I have outgrown these rooms, this house.
Not painfully. Not regretfully. Just naturally, like moving from one phase to the next with soft acceptance.
So I walk through House No. 2025 one last time.
I run my fingers along the walls, thanking them quietly. I look out through the windows, grateful for the light they brought. I touch the door, remembering all the times it kept me safe. I stand in the centre and feel the weight of the year dissolve into something lighter. Kinder.
Then I clean up.
I gather my lessons carefully. I leave gratitude like fresh flowers in a vase. I tidy my emotional luggage, no overpacking this time.
Stepping Out With Grace
Finally, I step out of House No. 2025.
I lock the door with love. Not because I’m shutting anything out, but because endings deserve dignity.
I don’t look back.
Not out of avoidance, but out of trust. What served me will stay within me. What needs to stay behind, will stay behind.
House No. 2025 was a home.
A beautiful, heartfelt, transformative home. And now, I hold the keys to House No. 2026 in my hand. A brand new address, freshly painted with hope, curiosity, courage, and the delicious anticipation of what’s next.
I’m ready.
