Thursday, July 10, 2014

Alone In The House

I'm alone in this old house tonight, and it seems to have been a very long time since this house and I could listen to one another all by our selves.  Alone can be very nice.  With it comes quiet, and with quiet, memories float like invisible stars.  This house has stories to tell.  This house has saved lives and mended many.  It's been a giving home. 

We've had so many birthday parties on the deck, Jed's 60th, James and Jean's 70th, Ubaldo's 55, Ian's 1st, and the kids, how we've celebrated. And our almost daily times with Reg and Erica will be held as solid validation that life is good.   This house has housed quite a few people who needed a place to live for a while, or a place to rest.  Mike, Phillip, Matt and the family, Candy, Ubaldo's mom, Elnora.  We've had Angie's graduation party, Nate and Jen's wedding reception, Alicia and Mario's Wedding preparation party, and now it's party central for catering.  This house has served us well. 

Ah, and the transitions.  First the upstairs was for Angie and Nathan, period.  They were teenagers and adjusting to a new life.  The upstairs gave them space.  "Mom, do you mind if I paint my wall?"  "No, honey, that would be fine."  "Yeow!!!!!  Not like that...."  It was a dark mother daughter time.  "Mom, may I plant a garden?"  "Sure, honey, that would be great."  "Yeow!!!  Don't plant that, I'll go to jail."  It was a dark mother son time.  Darkness is followed by light.  The children finally leave and Jed and I move upstairs.  Jed builds an amazing bathroom and shower, installs a Jacuzzi tub and we live happily ever after. 

Well, not ever.  After Jed fell, we turned the living room into our bedroom.  The upstairs was empty so Ubaldo moved seems this house has opened it's doors to all the options and possibilities and joys and friendships, families and needs of our lives. 

We almost lost this house several times, I think 5 times, to auction.  It was a dark, dark time of fear and anguish.  I was quite ready to leave.  It was just too much.  Too much of everything.  Too much fixing, too much pain, too much and way too little.  I started shopping for another house.  Leave it behind was my mantra.  But things change.  New paint, new modification, new garden, and now the stories float.  I can visualize the house breathing deep breaths of appreciation for our not walking away and for recognizing it's importance in so many lives. 

The grandchildren grew up in the back yard, or at least that's my memory, and now the great grand children will, because it has been brought back from it's near death of neglect.  I cannot walk into this house or meander it's yards without seeing Jed.  His vision for creating the porch and the deck and the bathroom upstairs are so incredible, and I am so grateful for his strength and his work. 

Someday I will leave this house, and it will be okay.  But for now, I am happy in the knowledge that not only has it been a wonderful place for us to build and go forward with our lives, it has been a wonderful place for many, many people to feel loved and know they belong to something quite powerful.  They belong to the dream that we had, the dream that we realized.  Even as Jed lay dying in this house, amidst all the pain and sorrow, it felt right and good, and blessed. 

Being alone in this house is quite a wonderful joy.  And with that joy is the knowledge that soon this house will flow with energy and plans and happiness, and being alone does not mean being lonely. 


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