Today, we went to our house in the small community southwest of here for what we hope is the final time. If all goes well, this coming Tuesday we will sign papers handing over title to the property to the buyers. When that happens, a long history with that property and with our family comes to an end.
Dad bought the place in 1939 and moved his bride to it that year. They lived there, raised a family of six children, and made a house a home for 45 years or so. Following their deaths in the mid-1980’s, I bought the place out of the estate and raised my family there. We moved away in 2000 for what we thought were greener pastures, and have rented the place out since then. Now it is for sale, and now we think it is sold.
Today, we got the last of the personal items out of the house and outbuildings that we want to keep. We dug up some day lily bulbs and also dug up some old fashioned rose bush roots that we’ll try to transplant. I don’t know how successful either of these ventures will be, but we’ll see.
When we were about ready to go, I took one last look around in the house. Although it looks nothing like it did when we lived there due to wear and tear and some bad renters, it seemed that each window, each doorway, each wall, each item I looked at released a flood of old memories about that particular item. Some memories came from the time I lived there as a child. Others came from the time I was the Dad in the house and was helping raise our kids. But they all came, and came in a flood. Some choking up came as well as I realized that what has been a part of my life from my birth was about to be taken from me, leaving only memories.
Just before I left the house, I moved a small folding table that was remaining there into the middle of the living room. I placed a “Dad cap” (family will know what I’m talking about here) on the table, looked at it for a moment, then went out the front door and locked it. I know it won’t be there long, as the new people will be working on the house soon. But it’s there right now, and in a sense will remain there for many years to come, because a neighbor came over while we were there. Among other observations he said that the house will always be known as “The (my last name) House” in the community.
And that’s just fine with me.
1 comment:
I read your 10/25 blog with interest. I have a lot of memories of your old home place from being there in the summers I worked for Mervin and visiting with my own family later. One memory in particular: one summer while I was there a "tornado" took the front porch off, lifted it over the top of the house knocking off the chimney, and depositing it in the back yard - quite a feat.
Cherish your memories - they will last a long time.
WDK
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