I have thought a really long time about this post - and I want to start by saying that I feel so incredibly grateful that I 1.) have parents that have been together for 37 years and 2.) that they have stayed in the same house for 32 of those years. For me, this means that not only do I have parents that created a reliable and warm home for my brother and I, but it means that I got to live in that home my entire life until I went to college, and have since had it as my safe haven, and my personal memory box.
My parents are moving to Oregon, which I've been rooting for for years - but it also means that my roots are moving to an unfamiliar place to me. This also means that this is our last Christmas all together in the Maple Valley house.
I know that a house is all it is, and for the most part I do a really good job of not placing any emotional attachment to things, however I have placed so. so. much. weight. on this house, and honestly, I'm having a really hard time shaking it.
This house is filled with so many memories I can't even begin to list them, I'll keep it as brief and poetic as possible.
This is the house where I learned how to play piano, where I had an entire basketball court to write out Elton John Lyrics in chalk on and draw outlines around my dog. It's where we had Rudy Dog, DInky, Squirt and Sox, Zoom and Oreo... but most importantly Rudy Dog, It's where I have my last memories of Pop Pop,
This is the house is where mom would wake us up in the middle of the night for meteor showers and snacks and this is the home of the magical Astro Van that took us on our first camping trips in the pop up tent trailer.
This is the house of sunbeam naps, and the house where I watched my mom beat cancer, and deal with my worst teenage years at the SAME TIME. This house is where I got ready for my high school proms and homecoming dances, and where my dad would play with me in the backyard, basketball or pickle ball or whatever ball wasn't flat at the time.
This is the house where the Bookie Babes gathered, and the house where Christopher and I spent summer nights outside playing until we got called home at dark. This is the house that we would pack up for entire days at the lake, even though the lake was only a few blocks from the house. This is the house of tasty Schwan's Man deliveries, and fancy Weekender's clothes. The house where the Rubber Band met, and where I first ever did a workout video ( it was a really great Cindy Crawford one, by the way.)
This is the house where I bounced on my pogo stick for hours while my Dad patiently worked in the garage listening to Oldies on 97.3 KBSG on his little paint-covered two dial radio. This house is the house we played around while every neighbor looked out for us. This is backyard where I could jump through the hedge and teleport to my best friend's house.
This is the house from which my parents took me to every soccer practice and game, lacrosse practice and games, piano lessons, piano recitals, youth group, and violin lessons.
In this house we always had dinner together and Daddio would ask us what the highlight of our day was.
We got through a lot in this house; typical family battles, break-ups, a divorce, and hard losses of loved ones. It's also where we laughed our pants off playing Rummi, Uno, Queen of the Prom, and Labyrinth. This is the house where Christopher and I would pick up wooden roof shingles for hours after a windstorm and where we earned coupons for half hour increments of watching TV.
This house has been a really great home. But it was the people in the house that made the memories together, the house was just the scene. So really, I suppose home is wherever my people are.
So, here is to new memories, in a new house with the vibes of the same old home.
I can only hope that Richie, Max, Samuel and April Baby can have the same affection towards their homes because of the memories we create in our house, like my parents did for us.