Something big happened last week: my parents sold the house I grew up in.

They’d been planning this move for a while, so it wasn’t a complete shock. Still, it felt like an important milestone. The reason for the sale is a happy one: they’re relocating to Richmond. Currently they live about two hours away in Northern Virginia, and both my parents are retired and ready to downsize. Richmond made sense for many reasons, not least because four of their five grandchildren live nearby. For all of us, that made the decision easier to celebrate.

Even with all the practical positives, closing this chapter feels significant. Please indulge me while I get a little sentimental.

My parents moved into that house in 1979. It was a brand-new home then, and they—along with my two older sisters—were the first occupants. The house became the place they brought me home to after I was born, and later where my little sister arrived. Over the 32 years my parents owned it, the house witnessed countless ordinary and defining moments: birthday parties, holidays, school-year photos, and the small rituals that make a house feel like a true family home. My mom kept a tradition of taking annual photos of us on the porch for the first day of school and on birthdays. That homemade banner taped to the storm door became part of the memory.

When their buyer’s contract was accepted early last month, we seized the chance to gather there one final time and take a family portrait. My sister Emily even recreated my mom’s birthday sign tradition so we could pose next to it. We managed a group photo of the original six Petersiks—what we jokingly called the “Petersix”—and then another with our expanded families, including spouses and children. It was raining hard during the shoot, but my brother-in-law, a professional photographer, handled it like a pro. Those photos capture the close, messy, joyful reality of family life: umbrellas, wet coats, thumbs-up, and big smiles.

To mark the occasion in a lasting way, my sisters and I wanted to give our parents something special. We debated a few ideas before settling on a painting of the house’s front door. They already owned a pen-and-ink sketch of the home, and after reading suggestions from friends and followers, we chose an artist who paints small, bold door portraits in a series called T+A—tiny and awesome. I sent her a photograph of the front door, and a couple of weeks later a small original painting arrived.

The painting is roughly 5 x 7 inches—small, but substantial enough to hold in your hands. The artist painted it on thin onion-skin parchment paper, which gives the surface a slightly wavy, translucent texture. At first I wondered about the paper choice, but learning that she works that way to ensure each piece feels like original, hand-created art rather than a print made it feel even more meaningful. The translucency also allows the painting to be matted on colored or patterned paper for extra depth; we experimented with a few options but ultimately chose a simple white card stock mat, thinking my parents would prefer a classic presentation.

We presented the painting this week and they loved it. Seeing their faces light up was the best part of the gift. It felt like the perfect small token to honor a big life transition.

As for the sale itself, my parents were fortunate. Before the house was officially listed on March 1st, they held a preview showing at the end of February. The preview attendee liked the home so much they made an acceptable offer right away. That sped up the timeline more than any of us expected. With the closing complete, my parents have about six weeks before they move into their new Richmond home. In the interim they’ll split time between their Delaware beach house, my sister’s place in Northern Virginia, and my other sister’s home here in Richmond. We’re all eagerly anticipating the day they can officially 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 turned out to be straightforward.