I lived there for twenty years and a lot of memories were made there. Memories with my children as they grew up...those were the good ones. And then there were the ones with just me and my little life and my little world...some not so good. You'd think that I wouldn't be attached, but I am. I don't think it was the memories though that I am so fond of, so nostalgic about, but it was the house itself. That house seemed to have a life of it's own.
I loved it from day one. It was/is majestic and stately. A wonderful two story with handsome pillars. But it was more than looks. As I loved this house, it seemed to love me back. I groomed it, redid it so it's beauty would continue to shine, and cared for it; sometimes more than I cared for myself. I let myself go for a time, but could not do that to my precious home; the place I would go to and hide from the world.
Like me, my home aged, so I would refinish floors, knock out walls and put finally use every usable space to it's fullest, most beautiful potential. When times were the hardest for me, I neglected it, almost abused it, and forgot about it. All I could do was live there. I could not love it anymore as I could not even love myself. It was sad with me, I felt it almost like a friend who would feel what I was feeling, but it still was my refuge when all seemed lost. I sat in it's rooms and sighed, and it seemed to sigh with me.
Almost a year ago now, we sold it and moved out west to this new home.
I said my goodbyes and promised it that I thought it would be the owner of a new landlord who would love it as much as I had, hopefully more, if that is possible. And I think it is! I still feel guilty at the clutter in the garage and basement closets.
My new home is smaller but I was and still am happy to own it. It has it's own beautiful bones, but I have not yet fully helped it be as beautiful as it could be. Fortunately for us, it has had good owners who have kept the main foundation of this space sound sound and quality.
Our son was back in Kansas City the other day and promised to drive by. I asked him to take pictures which he did.
When he texted me and I saw that the new owner had our former home decked out for Christmas in festive lights looking quite glorious, a tinge of pain tiptoed through my soul. Why is that I constantly think I have never taken care of anything quite good enough? Whether it be my beloved home, my children, my husband, my career, or myself? Perhaps that is something to explore?
In the meantime, I am thankful for new beginnings, for family, for this wonderful home I am able to caretaker of, and of second chances.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
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