That damned house (xposted from FB)

Sometimes I really miss our house. I'm trying to figure out my feelings about it all - do I miss the house? Do I miss the town? Do I miss my friends there?

Well, the answer is: yes. I miss it all, in varying degrees depending on the day. It's hard to start on the path of a Dream (no matter how much I might now philosophically believe that the Dream is a load of BS they sell us to keep the economy going) and to start making a house into a home and then have it all just go away.

That home is where Chris began his first business. That is where some of the amazing wood working he did was completed. There were nights when he would stay up working until midnight, sleep two hours, then go back out to the shop to get it all done in time. Sometimes I'd go out to the shop when there was putzy work I could help him with - sanding, or holding the other end of something to make it easier for him to glue things up.

And that home is where I was when I had my miscarriage. I sat on the old couch we had for a few days just crying and crying. And I can still remember where everything was in the room, where the videos were kept that I watched to help distract my mind from all of those lost dreams.

That town is where we lived when I found out I was pregnant with Morgan. We walked down to the Dairy Queen (we tried really hard to make that a rule - no driving! We had to walk there and back!) and shared a Peanut Buster Parfait and I told Chris we were expecting again.

And the bathroom - I remodeled the bathroom after my miscarriage as a project I could do to feel like I had created something. Granted, I did it on a $50 budget using left over paint that subsequently stained the linoleum and bath tub, but I still was proud of the fact that I did it myself.

And I can still remember how the bathroom smelled in the heat of the summer when I was sooo incredibly wracked with morning sickness, and how the mineral smells in the water made it even worse. Nothing like pregnancy nose, right?

The hardwood floors in the living room that we were so excited to find beneath the carpeting. After living there a year we finally pulled up the carpet and refinished the main level floor. It wasn't perfect, but it was still beautiful and added a richness to the room.

Oh, and the fireplace! We'd light a fire, put on a record (yes, we have a large record collection, and we love to play them as often as we can), and sit back in our armchairs, dreaming about the future. The dogs would curl up by our feet and life was blissful in those moments.

On the topic of records: Cat Stevens' Tea for the Tillerman and Queen's Night at the Opera. Those were the two most played records at that house. Listening to them I can almost hear the fire crackle, feel the cool hardwood beneath my feet, and smell sweet cherry wood burning (benefit of being married to a wood worker - exotic kindling!).

The garden we had the summer after Morgan came. I would go out back and place her on a blanket and spend an hour or so weeding the garden. Once she figured out crawling it took considerably longer to get through a row of plants, with having to go after her ever few minutes! I made a lot of zucchini bread that fall.

My neighbors - I miss them! Cecil and Terri left before Morgan was born, and they were so excited to have a "granddaughter" (they have only sons and grandsons). They used to decorate their yard with a flood of lights every Halloween and Christmas, and I would sometimes just sit on the radiator by the window and watch the lights sparkle. They are kinds souls and immediately took us in as if we were family.

Our other neighbors, Patti and Dean and the kids - I spent a lot of time at Patti's with her daycare, and sometimes just so I could speak to another adult during the day! She was and has been a kind, supportive and welcome shoulder to lean on. Very few people know as much about the harder parts of our lives the past few years than she does.

And, for a while, I FINALLY had the chance to live in the same zip code as Ashlee. That was the first time ever! We had our Thursday get-togethers where I'd go to her house and we'd "work" - before we had kids, we'd sometimes get some office work done between chatting and gossiping, and once the children arrived we'd just run interference for each other while we chatted and gossiped. Well, mostly I'd run interference while she made food that I'd later get to eat. I'm pretty cheap - a pan of pumpkin bread and I'm yours!

In the midst of all the darkness we went through this year, I didn't give myself the chance to celebrate the wonderful times we had in that home we'd made. And we had plans... boy did we ever have plans! Our kitchen was in a state of planning the whole time we lived there :P It would have been amazing if we'd been able to finish it all. But we did what we could with the resources we had, and while we lived there, we had a pretty good time.

We're moving on. We're doing well. We're in a new place, but it's not yet home. It may be, but then again, it may always remain another resting place on the road to a new home. We'll see. I know in my heart that we have the biggest home anyone could ask for - friends and family from coast to coast who have showed us love and generosity when we were down. That much I am grateful for, and I cherish it more than I can say. But I do long for finding that sense of home again. I have my family, but I sometimes still feel lost in the world. I confided in a friend recently that it's difficult to be looking for an object and only be able to recall that it used to reside on the top of a dresser that we no longer own in a home that is no longer ours. It's hard to rest your head when you don't know where home is.

Sorting our lives into boxes

We have decided to make a hasty (yet well-planned) exit from this home for a few important reasons:

1. Wilderheart's new job is starting soon, and we want to keep the family together as much as possible.
2. The fate of our home is unknown at this point, except that one way or another it won't be ours in a few months. We have no reason to cling to it. In our hearts, it is no longer ours.
3. It's been a long winter and we figured that turning our lives inside out and disposing of 3/4 of our belongings would break up the tedium.

We had a one week mad dash to store, donate, sell or trash everything we own. Well, we made it about 50% of the way on that, but Wilderheart's start date was moved back a week, so we also have an extra week to make things happen.

We have a storage unit here in town so we don't have to drive far. Since we'll be mobile for the next several months, we figured that this was as good a place to store things as any. And we aren't storing a whole lot. The only pieces of furniture we are keeping are an antique dresser and Morgan's crib. Everything else we have has been handed down to us or purchased second-hand. We don't have any strong attachments to any of it.

Clothes? Not a problem, either. Books? Somewhat more difficult, but we promised each other we'd buy a Kindle as soon as we can save for one so we can carry a library on the road with us. Books that really mean a lot will go in the storage unit.

The real difficult items to sort are those dozen or so boxes of odds and ends that we have kept through out our lives to remind us of moments in our past, like a box full of bookmarks that refer back to a chapter we may want to revisit some day. The space shuttle pencil sharpener from my visit to Orlando at age six. The hedgehog dog toy we took photos of against the backdrop of various tourist attractions on our trip to New Mexico. The keychain from my senior prom.

Those are the little treasures with which I cannot bring myself to part. They don't take up much space, but some day, after a lot of living and a lot of travel, my children will ask me about my past. Those bookmarks will come in handy.