Day 90- June 10, 2020

Day 90- June 10, 2020

Another friend of a friend came through my mom's house today.  It's one of the neighbor's besties, and we were hopeful for a match, but I don't think it's meant to be.  It's a unique house, a large victorian colonial with a ton of charm, history, and character, but not the cutting edge modern updates some people are looking for.  Also, with three teens, the master bedroom on its own level is amazing, but the three bedrooms upstairs work for only two of them (the third is tiny), and the fourth large bedroom is ground level- with its own entrance- which may be a teen's dream, but probably not so much for a parent.

As I said to my mother, "Can you imagine if Nicole had been living in that room when she was 16?  She would have been sneaking out nightly."

To be fair, her response was to quip "She just climbed out the window."  E. overheard and I had to pretend we were joking- which we (sort of) were.

The porch where I spent a lot of humid
summer nights hanging out with friends.

As teens, my sister and I were pretty good, but there were definitely times we both snuck out, or snuck people (boys) into the house after hours.  I have some pretty distinct memories of climbing oh-so-carefully down the stairs to avoid the ones that squeaked, and pulling open the heavy sliding glass doors in the family room for some clandestine meetings (sorry Mom).

It's been tough coming to grips with selling this house.  Teenage antics aside, there were also a ton of additional memories in that house, the floodgates for which I'm not quite ready to open just yet.  There's history in a home that's been in your family for 35 years.  I grew up there, I learned to love there, I cried, said good-bye, said hello- all at that house.  As I said to my husband today, "there's not a place I can look on this property that I don't have a memory."  To demonstrated, I pointed to the giant rocks, which were pulled up and moved when they demoed an old barn by the side woods.

"See those boulders?  That's where Nicole and I used to draw with watercolors- and jump off of when we were feeling ambitious."  I turned towards the woods near the back.  "That big oak?  There was a vine that hung from it that I used to swing on, until it fell.  Then, we had a tire swing hung from a big branch, and I used to sail out over the blackberry bushes."

I kept pointing.  "And that tree at the start of the path in the woods?  Ali and I  transplanted it when it was a sapling.  And the path to her old house-  remember when we lit it up with Christmas lights and had that epic Memorial Day party in our yard and Ali's, with all those people from college and our home friends because we ran into high school buddies at The Office and invited them- and they all showed up, with more friends?!  There must have been 200 people here!"

Now I was looking closer, checking things off in my head, thinking of the inside of the house as well as the yard.

That's where we first saw my puppy, Greta, when I was in third grade.
That's where I used to swing and sing along with Billy Joel's Greatest Hits while my dad built the three-season porch.
That's the window my crush broke in 6th grade by tapping it with a flashlight as he and a bunch of the boys from my elementary school crashed my birthday party. 
That's the dirt path Greta created by running around the pool area, trying to "herd" us.
That's the hallway where my sister and I played epic battles of indoor soccer.
That's where we had soccer practice for my rec team in the backyard.
That's the spot where my mom stood cradling Allison the puppy in her arms on Christmas morning, with Greta bounding around her feet.
That's the deck where I ran around with  my friends, swinging bells and blowing into noisemakers, shouting "Happy New Year!" and freezing in our nicest outfits.
That's where we put a canoe in the pool when we had our final soccer party in 8th grade, because our coach had to stop coaching us since she worked at our high school (the canoe was for her).
That's where I walked into the only surprise birthday party I've ever had, singing "Au Bal Masque" with Ali and Heather at loud decibels.
That's where my treehouse was, where I had my first real kiss (my parents may have been smart to take that thing down)
That's the spot where I had my first kiss with my husband- when we were 15- right before his mom pulled into the driveway to pick him up. 
That's the garage where I had my sweet sixteen party.
That's the basement where we filmed a French video about zombies.
That's the porch where I my friends and I hung out during hot summer rainstorms in our late teens.
Those are the steps I stood on while hugging my granny after my dad, her youngest son, died.
That's where my sister and I hung up tarps so we could continue to have bands playing in the rain for a party.
That's where my mom and stepdad threatened to call the police because there were still late party guests in the pool at 4AM.
That's the kitchen where my husband asked my mom for her blessing before picking out my engagement ring.
That's the spot where we told my mom she was going to have another grandchild, and she said "How did this happen?!" (we had a nine-month old at the time) and my husband responded "Well Laura, when a man and woman really love each other..." before I smacked him on the arm.
That's where my daughters met their cousins for the first time.
That's where we took photos for my mom's wedding to my stepdad.
That's where the girls learned to swim.
That's where we had a mini-reunion of my best friends (and their children) before our 20th high school reunion.

PART of the backyard (there's a whole soccer field
on the other side of the pool)

It's a lot, and those are maybe a hundredth of the memories that swirl every time I walk through that house, on that property.  It's hard to believe how quickly the time flew by, and how much I'm going to miss it. Over the next several weeks, while I'm writing this daily blog, I'm sure I'll elaborate on these (or others) that are shareable to the public as I'm reminded of moments while experiencing the present.  The private memories, which are some of the best of course, those I'll keep to myself and to talks with friends and loved ones.  But it's good to be writing, it's good to remember.

When I was writing my thesis, I wrote about a theory on time that exists- one that says that at any moment, in any place, that everything that has ever happened, and will ever happen, are all going on simultaneously.  If you could just peek through the fabric of time, you could glimpse those moments.  At my mom's house, I always have that feeling, and I think that's what I'm going to miss the most.  With access to that place, it feels like those memories are alive, that as long as I'm there to see them in my mind's eye, they are still occurring, somewhere in the ether.

And I have to remind myself, it's a place.  It's just a place, and the memories - those are going to be with me, long after my mom moves.  They are a (rather large) part of who I am, who I am becoming, and who I'm going to be.  And that's always going to be true.

Day 73- May 24, 2020

Day 73- May 24, 2020

I woke up this morning, looked at my phone, and practically flew out of the bed.  It was 9:55, and one of R's good friends from school is moving back to Japan, and there was a drive-by parade for her at 10.  Thankfully, it was around the corner, but I still had to get my contact lenses in, grab Riley (shoes were not to be), and since I didn't see my keys right away, jump into Jeff's pick up truck and drive the half mile to the line up of cars.  Fortunately, there was a l-o-n-g line, and we pulled off arriving at exactly 9:59, one minute to spare.  Jeff's truck has a sun roof, so I allowed R. to carefully stand up and stick her head out as we turned the corner by her friend's house.  I know this is likely the last time we're going to see her- this move to Japan is permanent, and her living here was a temporary thing.  I'm hoping the girls can stay connected through Facebook Messenger for Kids, but I know that's not the same as in-person time, and it's sad to see her go.

My mom is officially putting her house on the market.  It's been bittersweet, knowing that we have been helping her prep for this, but also coming to terms with my childhood home being sold.  Many of my best memories are in that house- my first kiss with my husband was on the front porch, right after he asked me to be his girlfriend.  My parents brought home two different puppies to that house, Greta and Allison, and my sister and I staged more skits, shenanigans and half-brained ideas than most children could even dream about.  My best friend lived next door, and our dads created a path from my yard to hers through the woods that we spent every free moment in.  We hosted epic Memorial Day parties in our 20's (responsibly- we always informed the neighbors, checked ID's and made sure no one drove drunk).  There were bands who played on the back deck, friends I snuck into the house at all hours, and my sweet sixteen that transformed the garage into a twinkle-lit fantasyland.

The living room- home to countless Christmas mornings

And now, it's just too much house for my mom to handle.  I can't afford to buy it from her, so we are in the final weeks of prep before it hits the market.  A friend of mine, who lives down the street, mentioned on Facebook that she was looking for a new home, and I sent her a description of mom's.  She's driven by a million times (she literally lives a block away, and once helped save my mom's dog by stopping before she could reach the busy intersection a few doors down),  and I offered to let her through today if she wanted (wearing all the precautions necessary, like gloves and a mask).  Our daughters are on the same soccer team, and we were able to organize an impromptu playdate while I showed her around.

The back porch, site of several late-night
gatherings with my friends

It's interesting to see your home through someone else's eyes.  It made me proud that she loved the house so much (she's trying to figure out if they can swing the asking price), and it was fun to tell the stories behind some of the rooms, like the time my sister and I tried to create a hole between our bedroom closets in order to create one big closet.  Little did we know that plaster was not easy to remove.  Somewhere around age 37, I got a rather testy call from my mother, where she began the conversation with "What were you and Nicole thinking when you made this hole in the wall?!".  I'm rather happy it took her a solid 25+ years to figure out the hole was even there.

After she left, I went around the house, taking some preliminary photos and creating video tours of the rooms, in case we want to go in that direction.  We'll likely get a professional, but I was curious what I could put together, just in case.

The girls and I also stopped by the house Jeff is working on, and I put the finishing touches on the ceiling in the master bedroom while he began cleaning the cabinets and sanding them down (the first steps for painting them).  The girls were allowed inside the home for the first time, since the carpeting is totally done and the paint is finally dry.  They took off their shoes, and rolled around, exclaiming "it's soooo soft!".  The lawn was also mowed this week, and so when they tired of the carpet, they were able to run around outside and play soccer.

In looking at the comps, I think she's going to do very well on this sale (way better than we initially thought), and that makes me really happy for her.  Jeff and I have also been planning how to make the best usage of this time for his growing business.  Real estate is largely based upon referrals and word of mouth, but we're thinking we can also advertise him as someone who can help get the most bang for your buck for people looking to sell homes that need a little bit of work.  He can help with the labor (or has an arsenal of contractors and subcontractors that we trust) and can make some small tweaks go a long way towards increasing the sales price of the house.  He's also worked with a few people from out of town, going out of his way to make videos of walking through homes, creating detailed notes about towns and their offerings to send (along with internet links, descriptions, and photos).  In one case, he actually had me come with him to do a Skype call, so he could walk around showing features in a house, and then walking through town, while I held the camera.  I don't know too many people who would do that in freezing temperatures.  He's really good at what he does, and I'm really proud of him for finding a profession that suites his personality and means he's helping others.  There's nothing quite like helping someone find a home.