Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to - John Ed Pearce

I'm so homesick. I lye in bed constantly thinking of new ways we might have been able to keep the house. Ways we could get it back. What ifs, what ifs, what ifs.
I lived in that house for twelve years! I've grown with that house. I've had all of my bestfriends and boyfriends sleep(shh) in there at one time. I've probably crashed into every single corner, and cried in every single room. I can remember exactly how everything looks, to the pieces of wallpaper missing and the history of our furniture. I became a part of the carpet and the paint, I was so deeply rooted in that house I'm sure you'd find flakes of my soul carved into the drywall.
Whenever I think about my home it feels like my heart is actually aching, my core starts to burn and i feel like i'm chocking. I miss the sound of waking up and taking the few small weary steps to my bathroom in the morning- I would smell brewing coffee, hear the far-away radio, and my parents chatting in their pajamas in my living room. That early-day experience always made me feel so comfortable and happy.
It's not only my house, it's where Bailey grew up too. He loved all the space he had to free range in our beautiful, rare backyard. In the winter he would run laps around the pool and bite at the snow. My parents loved our house too, and I can't imagine how hard it is for them to be where we are now- they especially loved our backyard too; their haven. It's impossible to read my brother but he must miss our home, we used to spend hours playing with legos in his room and i can still hear the sound of him raking through legos to find a particular one. We were a family in that house. I feel like now we're living in a hotel, and i'm hopeful we can go home soon.
I could list off thousands of things I miss, and thousands of things I remember perfectly about the house. It does me no good, i'm never going to get to go back and being as happy and comfortable as we were. No matter how much I dream about it ( at least once a week), or the many things I would give up just go home- i can't seem to let myself realize that I'm never going back! All i can do is lay in bed and walk through the house in my head, fighting back tears and sniffles so Josh doesn't here me and I don't feel more silly.