Something significant happened last week: my parents sold the house where I grew up.
They had been planning this for some time, so it wasn’t a complete surprise. It also didn’t feel entirely sorrowful—this sale is a step toward moving to Richmond. Right now they live about two hours away in Northern Virginia. Both of my parents are retired and wanted to downsize for a while, and Richmond made a lot of sense: four of their five grandchildren live here. So although the house is changing hands, we’re genuinely happy for them.
Still, closing this chapter feels like a major life milestone, so indulge me while I get a bit sentimental.
They moved into that house in 1979 (forgive the not-quite-glamorous winter photo above). It was a new-construction home then, and my parents—along with my two older sisters—were its first occupants. If you’re counting, that was two years before I was born, which means it’s the place they brought me home to, and later my younger sister as well. Over the 32 years they owned it, countless family moments happened within its walls: birthdays, homework sessions, holiday dinners, and the routine rituals that stitch a family’s life together. My mom, for example, took yearly photos of us on the front porch on the first day of school and for our birthdays—hence the homemade banner taped to the storm door behind me in some pictures.
When we learned they had accepted an offer earlier last month, we made time to gather for one last family portrait at the house. My sister Emily even recreated our mom’s birthday-sign tradition for the shot. First, here’s the “original” six Petersiks (affectionately dubbed the “Petersix”)—the generation that grew up there.
And then the photo with the family expanded—spouses and children included. It was pouring rain while we took these, but my brother-in-law, who’s a professional photographer, knew how to make everything work despite the weather.
Along with the photos, my sisters and I wanted to give our parents something special to mark the occasion. After considering a few ideas, we decided on a painting of the house’s front door. They already own a pen-and-ink sketch of the house, and with a tip from friends on Twitter, we chose a piece by artist Kal Barteski from her T+A (tiny and awesome) series. I sent her a photo of the door and waited.
A couple of weeks later, the piece arrived. We split the cost four ways, and it was worth every cent. The painting truly lives up to its name: tiny and awesome.
The artwork measures about 5 x 7 inches—not minuscule, but small and intimate. Kal paints on thin onion-skin parchment, which gives the piece a slightly wavy, textured look. At first the translucence threw me—but when I learned she uses that paper intentionally so each painting feels like an original work rather than a print, the effect felt charming and personal.
The translucent onion-skin paper also lets you play with mats. Kal suggests mounting the artwork on colored or patterned paper to create extra texture and personality. We experimented with a few options, but ultimately chose a clean white card stock because we thought my parents would prefer the simplicity.
We gave the painting to my parents this week and they absolutely loved it. Seeing their reaction made the whole gift worthwhile.
For anyone curious about the sale itself: my parents were fortunate. Before the house officially listed on March 1, they held a preview showing in late February. The first person through made an offer on the spot, and it was accepted. That sped up the timeline considerably. They now have roughly six weeks before moving into their new Richmond home, so in the interim they’ll be splitting time between our Delaware beach house, my sister’s home in Northern Virginia, and my sister’s place here in Richmond. We’re all excited for the day they can finally call our city home.
P.S. — The babyproofing adventures continue over on BabyCenter where we’re sharing how we anchored a large wall mirror in our bedroom (fortunately it wasn’t complicated).