I lived in this house for 20 years. Twenty years of birthdays and holidays spent here. It’s where I once caught my daughter cheerfully swinging from the chandelier in her bedroom when she was 3. When we built the front porch, I vowed I’d live here forever.

Last week, I put the house on the market and it sold in a single day.

Like all big decisions, I didn’t wake up one morning and think, this will be a good day to sell my house. The idea had simmered in my head for years — five, to be exact. The realtor who sold it was here five years ago, taking pictures, telling me what the process would be like, and sending me new homes to look at. I told her I wasn’t ready.

I wasn’t prepared to let go. My three kids all learned how to crawl and walk in this house. The driveway that swirls around the flowering pear trees that I planted with my sleeping baby on my back is where they learned how to ride their bikes. I dug in the dirt for hours planting hundreds of hydrangeas. The little hill at the edge of our property was a beloved sledding spot. Our ducks have walked every inch of our four acres and our first family dog is buried here.

I’ve painted every room at least three times and changed every light fixture. I’ve stayed up late rearranging the dishes on the open shelves in the kitchen. It’s as if these four walls became a part of me, and yet, something changed this year. I still don’t know what it is, but I’m saying goodbye.

Until recently, I always felt like this house was home. I was at peace here, like it was where I was meant to be forever and always. But I began to realize over the past few months that now that my kids are older and heading off on their own adventures, I’ve outgrown this place. I have a deep urge to start fresh in a new town, in a new house. I’ve fought back the feeling that’s been lingering but I keep coming back to the same thought: I’m not supposed to be here anymore.

And the thing that makes it okay is that I know that the memories I shared with my kids are within me. They are within my kids and my ex-husband. Our memories are not tethered to the walls that are covered with red vinyl siding and black shingles. They aren’t in the lawn we’ve had picnics on, or the dirt we’ve dug in to plant our gardens. We share the good and bad of those 20 years together here, but I realized we can all move on and be OK. We’ll take those memories wherever we go.

Yes, our emotions are mixed, and yes, we will miss this home. But it’s just a house. It’s just a space. It’s not us.

I’m excited and scared and nervous to start over. But that’s not holding me back, because now my curiosity and need for change and growth is so much stronger. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I know it’s the right one.

Katie lives in Maine with her three kids, two ducks, and a Goldendoodle. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, at the gym, redecorating her home, or spending too much money online.