Monday, February 27, 2012
Sometimes, I don't remember how we got here.
I suppose it doesn't matter anymore.
It's been nearly eight years since we walked through these doors for the first time. This was our "for now" house. We doubted we'd live here for more than three or four years. It was affordable and had a bedroom for each of us, and that's really all that mattered.
Other things mattered, I'm sure, but I don't remember them.
I remember the Boy and the Girl being so sad, so upset that they had their own rooms. They'd shared a room forever...ever since they'd shared a womb. For the first three weeks we lived in this little house I found the Boy sleeping soundly on the Girl's bedroom floor.
I don't remember every dance we danced through our living room, sock skating across our kitchen floor. Just this week I'm sure danced at least three times. I don't remember every meal I cooked, every loaf of bread I baked. But I do remember when the children made each other birthday cakes for the first time. I remember sitting around the table, talking about the best parts of our day. What we are thankful for. Even some of the off-color jokes.
I remember bringing our puppy home.
I had no idea how much she would change my life. How much she has changed my life.
How much she changed all of our lives...
I don't know how it happened but somehow in this place, in this very small space, we became a family.
(While writing this I was reminded of that song "Little Houses". I looked up the lyrics and got to the part about Sue having twins and I started to cry. Sigh)
A home does not make a family. I know this. I know this is the right decision and I know this is the right time.
There are things I won't miss, of course. I will never think with fondness about the traffic on Interstate 40 at rush hour. I will never, ever miss the vast majority of my neighbors, especially the little girl (long gone) who peed on my porch or anyone who drunkenly insulted the size of my ass. The dogs that run loose in the neighborhood and bark every single second of every single day. The homegrown firework shows that last from June 27th-July 14th. How the house was never quite exactly right. Not bad, just not exactly. Also, I won't miss paying city and county taxes. Not even a little.
Still. It's a little sad. Just a little sad to leave this place.
I will miss the cashiers at the Kroger, who know me by name. I will miss my church. My friends. The people who love me. Listening to Marc and Kim and Frank in the morning. I will miss the sunrise over the Tennessee River, the crisp walks in the cool evening air. Every path on every trail at Ijams Nature Center. How I can understand everything everyone says here without the assistance of a translator.
I will miss these things.
But it's going to be okay.
I really believe that.
There is a new place for us. A place that I believe will feel like home.
For the first time ever. I will feel like I'm home.