Homemade

Ten years ago, we slept in the living room on our first night in our new house.  Just the two of us.

Last night, we slept in the living room on our last night in our old house.  Just the two of us.

The six children that were born in the past decade are all installed comfortably at the grandparents’ house while we finish madly packing.  It is the first time I have spent a night away from them (other than the grudging hospital stays I’ve taken to have babies and to be with Ben during his operations).  It feels so empty here.  I’m used to so much life.  Echo.  Echo.  Echo…

It started as some renovation projects.  Than a man approached us about renting.  Was it time?  After all these years of trying to move out of this house, was it time to leave?  We prayed and prayed and prayed and expected everything to fall through.  But doors never slammed.  So I painted the door bright red.  And walked on through.

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I can’t say I’m excited.  I’m not sure what the future holds, so there’s a measure of fear mixed with hope.  I feel a bit homeless.  It’s been a very busy week trying like crazy to finish  all those little projects that we (finally, after a decade) started.  Plus packing.  When we moved in, all we owned fit in our car.  That was before minivans and Yukons and the lifetime supply of legos.

That was before wheelchairs and high chairs.

And diapers and potty training.

And a new deck.  And fridge.  And dishwasher.  And roof.

And homeschooling.

And dandelion bouquets.

And new paint everywhere.  And a new toilet.

And living paycheck to paycheck.  Living on love.  Living on beans and rice.

And living on a budget.  And bounty.  And steak and ice cream.

And bunk beds.  And more bunk beds.

And a new chimney.  And wood stove.

And crayon pictures.  And nerf guns.

And squirrels on the roof.  And salamanders in the basement.

And chalk drawings on the road.

And cell phones with cameras.  And texting.

And weight gain.  And weight loss.

And friends gained.  And friends lost.

And the memories.

Oh, the memories.

I found the hats my children wore home from the hospital.  I found never-finished scrapbooks.  I found dozens of lost nerf gun bullets.  And Batman.  And an old bird nest.   And Ben’s first leg braces.  And power cords that go to nothing anymore.  And our stack of wedding photos.  And college notebooks.  And Legos.  Of course Legos.

And we packed it up, so many boxes that will languish in storage while we wait for whatever happens next.  It’s bittersweet to leave the only home my children have known.  But I will keep the children.  And move on with the adventure together.  I’ll miss seeing the azaleas bloom, and the perennials, which despite my brown thumb have managed to increase over the years.  I’ll miss my neighbors.  But I won’t be sleeping in the living room anymore.

On with the adventure.

3 thoughts on “Homemade

  1. I’m sitting in a room in Vajta which also brings back many memories! Thank-you for sharing the gift of the written word that God has given to you. This piece is beautifully evocative, Alison Turner

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