Let me back up---
Eleven years ago we took a huge leap of faith and without selling our house or getting jobs, we packed up all of our belongings and our one child and moved from WA to TX. It was scary, it was exciting, it was expensive, and in hindsight, it was a little crazy. We found a house in TX we liked and bought it, sold our WA house, and found work rather quickly. Things seemed to be going along swimmingly.
We closed on our WA house and I started a new job the next week. My second day on the job, I was rear-ended on the way to work. Two days later, my father-in-law died. I should mention, he was the main reason we moved to Texas.
We were thrown for a loop but decided there was no going back, set down roots, a couple of years later upgraded to a larger house, and decided that we needed another child to make our little family complete. That house became our home for the next eight years, until we made another (crazy?) move to Cuba.
My parents have lived in the same house since 1975. It was the third home I had ever lived in, if you count an apartment we lived in for a few months while waiting to move into that house. It's gotten new carpet, new tile, new wooden floors; it's been added onto, expanded, gutted, and rebuilt; and it was my only house for all twelve years of school until I went to college. Most people can't say that.
I still sleep in the same bedroom as when I was a first grader when I go back to visit.
And my oldest son had a very similar experience with our last home in Texas. He moved there at the end of his first grade year (the week of his 7th birthday), and we lived in that same house until we moved here.
I loved that house, with its amazing tile that the builders brought up from Mexico when it was being built in the 1960s. I loved the beamed ceilings and stucco fireplace.
There was the nice front porch for watching kids as they played football, and a long driveway that curved around to a rear garage. Both of my kids learned to ride their bikes in that driveway.
My favorite thing about the house was the front yard---two large pecan trees and an oak tree that was huge. The acorns were the size of my thumb.
School-house lilies---heritage bulbs leftover from the days that our lot was a farm, no doubt---would peek up every August and sometimes, again in May. I loved them, too.
The Colorado Springs house? LOVED the kitchen. It was a small galley kitchen but everything was perfect. I also loved having a basement (even though the furnace scared me to death, I'm not going to lie).
The Washington house? I loved the back porch and deck my husband built. In typical hubby fashion, he had an idea, he drew it out quickly, he made ONE trip to the hardware store and in a day, it was done. I also miss my huge bathtub---not great for conserving water, but damn, sometimes you just want a serious bubble bath.
The Texas house, version one? The 1950 bungalow was perfect---for a small family. The original wooden floors that had never been shellacked (only oiled) and the wood trim throughout were beautiful. I loved the funky 50s formica with the atomic design.
Then there was our last house---the longest we have lived in one place since we married over 20 years ago. We brought home a beautiful, big, joyful baby boy there in 2005. We had bouncy houses and piñatas under the large oak for 2 boys' birthday parties. I never mastered backing the boat out of the long driveway, but I never hit the telephone at the end of the drive, either---a plus.
We lost a dog living in that house and gained a child. I celebrated holidays in that house with my grandfather, who I think about and miss every single day. I pulled many late nighters finishing up grad classes so I could change careers and become a librarian while living there.
We shared many noisy, happy, and child-filled celebrations with our Texas family there, and I was the happiest when we had everyone around our dining room table.
Texas is our home of record, and is our last US home. After ten years there, I still don't feel like a Texan---but I did give birth to one, and perhaps he'll feel the pull for Texas as I do for Mississippi (and, to some extent, our oldest feels for Washington State). I left many people I love there, and I have many reasons to go back to visit. We just knew that keeping a house there was impractical and not financially prudent, so selling it was ultimately the best decision we could make for our family.
It was a good house, and it was a great home. Here's to the next family filling it with laughter and love.
Perfect.
ReplyDelete