This Old Home
What is a home? Is a home a place to simply watch TV, eat, sleep, wash, and repeat? Does a home have a pulse or life of its own? Before the age of 19 I lived in three different homes. From the age of 19 to 30 I lived in 12 different addresses. I loved having a different apartment every year. Since the age of 31 I have lived in the same house with my wife. I have lived in our Glenwood home longer than anywhere else in my 45 years on this planet. Our Home is the book where the story of our marriage has been so far written. Our home has been to backdrop of so many events. I have been in the grocery business for 15 years and before that I was a police officer. For the first few years of our marriage I struggled with working retail. I felt I was helping no one and contributing to nothing. I desperately wanted out and in that home I applied, replied, and conversed about many opportunities. I passed up several offers and stormed around that house wanting something more. I would eventually even take a job with the Fire Department but found my way back to the my present line of work. Work would have many ups and downs but in this old home my wife always had my back and was the greatest devils advocate.
The grandest of all wars would be witnessed in this old home. Parenthood was a life time wish of mine and when we decided to try we hit a big cruel infertile wall. I clearly remember spending an entire day and night on my Luv Sac in the living room keeping an eye on my wife after one of our miscarriages. Many tears would be shed privately by me in this old home when my wife was not there. I needed to be strong for her but in a quiet moment this old home knows about my breakdowns. The war would eventually be won and my wife would spend eight months on bed rest in this home. Our child would be born and so many things would chasing but we were always safe in this old home.
I walk in my daughters room. The room barely looks like the one I brought here home too. Its being packed up and the walls my Dad painted for her stand out boldly reminding us its a little Princesses room. The hundreds of diapers I changed in that room, to nights I spent rocking her to sleep, the thousands of stories I have read to her, and the endless number of songs I have sang to her are wove into the walls of this old home. She started walking here, reading here, laughing here, and she has been nursed back to health so many times. The room went from rockers, cribs, and Hello Kitty to a big bed, fish tank, and Monster High.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I have shared so many great ones there with family and friends, Christmas trees and Santa visits, birthday parties, and Easter Egg hunts. This home hosted them all. I have baked in this home with my daughter. Love has been made in this home and grown. Our family became what it is today in these walls. Many pets have been love here and three were lost. One was lost suddenly and by surprise, one while we were out of town, and recently our Big Brown friend moved on. Now this home is silent a shell of itself. The barks are mostly gone, the furniture and belongings slowly packed away. This home will soon belong to another family and I hope they are as lucky as we are. I hope the love we leave behind is karmic and grows for the new family. I hope we still see out neighbors and their love continues to grow.
The new home brings new dreams and new chapters. In this home we will celebrate new memories. We will see a little girl bringing friends through its halls and eventually boyfriends and grandchildren. We will grow older. I will watch from the porch a new neighborhood grow and make new friends. Their will be struggles but our old home has taught us to survive. First we must bring Big Browns ashes to the home and make a home for them by a tree in the huge yard. She will swatch over us. I look forward to the future but I will never ever forget the past.