I’ve spent the past two weeks looking through thousands of photos and have realized it’s impossible to memorialize a home of 15+ years with any number of pictures.
I was 11 when we moved to Iliff Street, just weeks before my brother Finn was born. I had just come home from camp when my dad and stepmom blindfolded me and drove me to what would be revealed as our new home and neighborhood.
I remember the excitement when I realized there were stairs (I had always envied friends with stairs), my own bathroom (no more fights with my brother), and that we were just 2 minutes from my best friend Joanne’s house.
That house became a home as our family grew. My youngest brothers, Finn and Q, came into the world, and my middle and high school years were filled with the joy of watching them grow up and make the Palisades their home, too.
There are too many memories and traditions to count, and the loss of so many things tied to those moments hurts deeply.
Thank you, Iliff Street, for everything. You weren’t just a house—you were our home. We’ll be back. ❤️
